World of WinchesterCraft
by nej47
Summary: NOT based on the game! Dean and Sam find themselves in an entirely different world of horrors than their usual one, and the only way out of the annoying fantasy is to learn how to be brothers again.
1. Dude, What the Hell?

**World of Winchester-Craft**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own 'em and, sadly, never will.

**A/N: **NO, it is not based on the WoW game, and YES, I am still working on my other ficage. But I'm bored and felt like posting this, so there ;) The first two chapters of this weird story are based on an equally weird dream I had. After that it will turn into a prompt fic. It takes place in Season Five, after "Fallen Idols." Pure, unadulterated crack ahead, with maybe some angst sometime later. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One: Dude, What the Hell?**

Dean wakes up to bright sunshine and seriously happy, chirpy birds. He's annoyed at once.

"Ungh…shut the window, Sammy…" He rolls over to bury his head under his pillow, but his pillow is gone. Keeping his face down, he gropes around for his plushy comfort but feels…grass? That can't be right. He turns his head, and then he feels something push up his nose. It smells like flowers. _Flowers?! _He sits up at once, brushing his hands over his face until his nostrils are clear. "Dammit, Sam," Dean growls. "Why'd you stuff flowers under my…pil..low…" He trails off as he looks around. There is no pillow. No bed, either. No motel room, no building, no anything like his surroundings when he fell asleep. Instead, he's in a meadow.

"What the…" Dean rubs his eyes to make sure he isn't seeing anything…then brings his hands back when he sees something weird. His hands are HUGE. His ring is still right where it should be, but his hands are at least 3 times their normal size. "What the—" He looks down and finds he can't see past his chest. His very broad, impossibly muscular, bronzed, bulked-up bare chest. "WHAT the—?!" He jumps to his feet lands with a mighty THUD, but he barely registers it. It's like someone took his head off his own body and put it on Conan the Barbarian—though Dean is pretty sure he's even bigger than Ah-nold ever was. Sure he's always been fit and muscular, but THIS…bare legs thick as tree trunks, shoulders wide and round and powerful, arms… Dean flexes his right arm and finds his entire view blocked by pure muscle. HOW can those giant guns be his arms? "I can't…I don't…" Words fail him as he focuses at last on the most important area of his body. He discovers it concealed by brown fur.

"Oh fuck…please tell me that isn't mine." Bracing himself, he reaches down and touches it, and is relieved to find the fur is connected to elastic. Then he frowns. "Fur underpants. Great." He pulls it forward from his skin and has a look down at what's inside. His eyes blow wide and the elastic snaps painfully back into place. It's official: the huge factor definitely applies to EVERY part of him, from his bewildered head to the toes of his underwear-matching fur boots. There's also something digging into his throat. He looks down but can't see it, so his fingers investigate. It's his amulet; his neck is now so thick that the leather band is taut, turning the necklace into a choker.

"Okay!" Dean says, looking around the meadow as he fights to get a grip. "This is a dream. Has to be…" But somehow, he knows that it isn't. The gentle breeze that blows through his hair, through his fur briefs, and over his bare leg muscles feels like a real breeze. The smell in the air is sweet—flowers and fruit—and Dean never dreams about flowers or fruit. He bends down (trying not to look at his barbarian body as it moves, but he can't help it) and picks up a sharp rock. The object is tiny in his hands—even his fingers look like they've gained muscles of their own. But he points the sharp end at his arm and cuts in. He feels the sting at once, and blood oozes up through his skin.

"It's real." Dean tugs at his amulet choker, and he reaches back to try and loosen up the cord, but it's no use: His big fingers can't even grasp the little knot, much less pull it apart. Dean sighs. "Sam's gonna love this."

His heart catches in his throat. "Sam." Dean looks around, hoping to spot his brother, but all he sees is more meadow and, in the near distance, a forest. "SAM?!" he calls several times, but no one answers him. "Shit." Then something on the ground gleams in the sun, and he moves over for a closer look. He finds a pouch, roughly the size of a laptop carrier, but made of tan suede, complete with a long, leather strap. The thing glinting in the sun is a crystal vial that is sticking out of the top of the pouch. Dean picks up both items and studies the vial. It looks like it contains liquid, sparkly glue. He peeks inside the pouch and finds several more of these, along with some gems and a handful of gold coins. There's also a small, thin, wooden box, and he takes it out and holds it up to the light. He grins at once.

"I don't believe it." It's a cell phone. A wooden cell phone! He slides the top forward with his thumb and finds wooden keys on the inside, along with a tiny glass screen. He finds the On Button and presses it, and the phone makes a sound like a woodpecker going to town on a tree. Then the glass screen fills with swirling colors, and an automated voice comes through the holes of the ornate, wooden speaker:

'Thank you for using Wish Works! One moment while we connect you to your personal directory.' A moment later, the pecking sound is back, and the word 'Connected' flashes on the screen. Then it disappears in a POOF of sparkles. Dean searches for the button to show him his contacts, but he can't find any; other than the On Button and the usual number keys, there isn't anything else to press.

'Please make a wish!' the pleasant voice coaxes. Dean looks at the phone, skeptical and a little weirded out, and the voice repeats itself. 'Please make a wish!'

Dean licks his lips. "Uh…okay. I…wish to talk to my brother? Sam?"

'Granted!'

The screen swirls with color again, and then the pecking sound comes again, drilling out the connection rings instead of the usual, automated ones. Then the other end of the line clicks.

"Dean?" Sam's voice asks, full of hope.

"Sammy," Dean breathes, smiling with relief. "Thank God. Where are you? Are you okay?"

"No, Dean, I'm not even remotely okay," Sam grumbles. "I've got—!" He cuts himself off, and Dean can just picture Sam pacing, showing the world his trademark bitchface.

"What? Sam, just spill."

"I've got wings, okay?"

Dean's sure he heard that wrong. "Wings," he repeats.

"Yeah, Dean, wings!"

Dean rolls the word to and fro in his mind, trying to wrap his head around it. It doesn't help. "So when you say 'wings'—"

"WINGS!" Sam hollers. "Big, shimmering wings!"

"Like a bird?"

"No, they're not feathery. They're more like a butterfly's wings—see-through, like stained glass, but softer. And they're green, if you care."

"Of course I care, Sammy, my brother has wings!" He starts giggling at the last few words, and he can feel Sam's glare on him through the phone. Dean clears his throat. "Sorry. So uh…wings. Anything else changed? Your clothes or, uh…" Dean looks at his rippling muscles again. "…anything?"

"Well they're my clothes, but not what I was wearing when I fell asleep. I've got my favorite pair of jeans on and my blue and green flannel. No shoes or socks though. Why, what about you?"

"No wings, but…there were changes." He scowls at the skimpy fur wardrobe. "Other stuff…"

"Like?"

"You'll have to see it to believe it. Where are you?"

Sam gives half a laugh and replies, "I'm in a giant forest." His brother is speechless. "Yeah. The trees here are bigger than redwoods, Dean. And everything else is huge, too—the flowers, the mushrooms… even the blades of grass are taller than me. And even worse—oh SHIT!"

"Sam?!"

There's a rustle on the other side of the phone, and a loud SWOOP shoots through Dean's ears. He hears Sam telling something to 'get offa me!' "Sam!" Dean yells. "Talk to me, what's happening?"

"A giant gypsy moth just tried to kiss me!" Sam shouts back. "Its feelers and sticky tongue were all over my face, ugh." Dean chuckles at the mental image. "Dude!" Sam cries, outraged. "So not funny!"

"I'm sorry, Sammy, but it is," Dean smirks. "A big bad moth got to second base with you!"

"Shut up, Dean."

"It must've thought your wings were pretty sexy."

"SHUT UP, Dean!" Sam fumes. "Just…get here, okay?"

"Fine, where's 'here'?"

"I don't know…" There's a pause, and Dean hears the tinkling of little bells in the background. "Can you see a huge lake where you are?"

"No, all I see is meadow. There's a forest over there though."

"Great, maybe that's the same forest I'm in! I'll try climbing up one of the mushrooms so I can keep a lookout for you."

"Okay. Keep your wooden cell phone on in case I have to call you again."

"I'm glad you did. Mine kept telling me I'd used up all my magic moments. Whatever that means." Sam sighs. "This isn't a dream, is it," he asks flatly.

"Nope. Already tested." Dean sighs as well. "Okay, hang tight, Sammy. And if any giant grasshoppers come looking for some action, you say no, hear me?"

"Very funny."

"I thought so," Dean grins. Sam just hangs up on him. Dean puts the phone back in his pouch and swings the strap over his head and across his broad chest, resting the bag on his left hip and the loop of the strap on his right shoulder. He starts walking toward the forest…only to trip on something after two steps and fall flat on his face. Dean spits the grass and dirt out of his mouth and sits up.

"Son of a bitch…" He looks around to see what he tripped on, and is very surprised by what he finds. A massive broadsword is lying on the ground, and it looks like it belongs on any number of heavy metal album covers. The long blade is gunmetal grey, yet it shines in the sunlight as if made of platinum. Runes are engraved in long lines along the blade. The handle, which is a combination of hard wood and iron, sports four angled prongs, two big ones and two small. The longer two reach from the handle's bottom like long fingers of lightning, while the inner two stick out from the guard and resemble saber teeth. Stuck in their jaws, as it were, are two spinners of runes, like the revolver of a gun. They are what catch Dean's attention, and he picks the sword up for a closer look.

The moment Dean's hand touches the handle, the runes in the spinners turn blood red. Light bursts forth from the hilt and spreads down the blade, its own runes turning crimson as well, as if they've just been forged. Dean feels a rush of power flow through the sword and into his hand, then over his entire body. _Damn! _is all he can think, a wide grin spreading across his face. It's like he's had ten straight orgasms and a month's supply of energy drinks all at once: he feels strong, unstoppable. Dean holds the sword high and a mighty CRACK pelts through the air, like a giant gunshot.

He brings the sword back down and examines the spinners on a hunch. Sure enough, he recognizes them now: the same runes are cast into the Colt. The blade is the exact color of the Colt's barrel, the handle the same wood. "Kick-ass gun turned into kick-ass sword," Dean beams, slashing the blade around. It feels so light and comfortable in his hand, like it's an extension of his own arm. The glow dissipates, but the runes remain firey. Dean looks around the grass to see if anything else came with it, and he finds a thick leather cord with frog bindings for the sword. Dean fastens that over his free shoulder, his broad chest now crisscrossed with that cord and the one for the pouch, and hooks the larger prongs into the frog, letting the sword rest across his broad back. Still feeling pumped up from whatever the Colt Sword put through him, Dean takes off in a run and bounds into the forest.

"Well that's just great," he says to himself as he looks at the trees. None of them are gigantic, as Sam had described; they just look like regular trees to Dean. That means he's in the wrong forest. He gets his cell phone to call his brother and ask for better directions, when his hunter's instincts pick up. He's being watched. Dean stands perfectly still and listens. It's to his right, whatever it is…somewhere behind the pines. Dean takes one step forward. It does too. A bush moves. Dean rolls his eyes. _It's too early in the morning for this crap. I haven't even had my coffee yet. _So he walks over to the bush and kneels down for a look. There's nothing there.

"Great, now I'm getting paranoid about bunnies…"

Then his neck gets hit with hot breath. Dean slowly stands up and turns around on his heel. A black wall of scales stands before him. He looks up. The wall is attached to the head and neck of a dragon, looking right at him with pale yellow eyes. It puffs out a little cloud of smoke from both nostrils. Dean gives it a quivering smile.

"So not a bunny!" He takes off, and the thing screeches and runs after him. The sword is spanking him with each step, reminding the warrior that he HAS A WEAPON. But Dean's too freaked to care. Furry underwear and a brother with wings are weird, but a fucking DRAGON?! That's too much for even Dean to process at once. He makes the mistake of looking over his shoulder—the beast is gone! Dean slows down and _WHUMP!_—the black dragon is directly in front of him again. Its head alone is longer than Dean himself, its body bigger than two city buses, and it leans down, still staring at him with those pale yellow eyes.

"Easy, dragon," Dean says, taking a step back. The dragon steps with him. Dean turns to run but the beast is faster this time: it pins him down between its front paws, using its sharp, silvery dewclaws to keep Dean from moving. It dips its head down again, and Dean panics. "No…trust me, dragon, you don't want to eat me. I'm not the tasty kind of white meat, I swear!" The dragon's snout closes in, and Dean shuts his eyes, braces for the end…

…and winds up covered in silken kisses. Dean cracks his eyes open and finds the dragon's long black tongue licking him up and down. It feels like a wet, satin ribbon, and it kinda tickles. Dean giggles, "Okay, okay, you like me, I get it!" He gently pushes the snout away, and the dragon gives him a final kiss on the cheek and lets him up. It sits low on the ground, giant tail swishing like a happy dog, and Dean swears he can tell that its smiling. Tentatively, he reaches out a hand, and the snout comes right back in for a pet. Dean soothes his hand along the scales and finds them soft and pliant. The dragon starts to purr, but not like a cat. It's a much better purr. A purr that Dean would recognize anywhere.

_It can't be! _He looks at the claws again. They're chrome—or at least, they resemble chrome. Dean peers up at the dragon's eyes. _Headlight Yellow, _he realizes. Giving the snout another rub, he smiles and asks, "Baby? Is that really you?" The dragon makes a happy, chirpy, yet rumbly sound, like a really big bird that's just found a really big bird bath. "I don't believe it," he grins. "Look at you! You're a dragon!" The head tilts left and right, like she's studying him, and she gives another rumbling chirp. Dean grins down at himself. "Yeah, I know, I'm different too, but you…" He stands back and takes her all in. "You're just awesome," he laughs, still grinning wide. She leans her head down and nudges him with affection, and he scratches her jaw. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's find Sam."

She sits up and looks around, suddenly worried. "It's okay," Dean reassures her. "I just talked to him a few minutes ago. But he's lost, so we have to find him." The dragon nods, and Dean motions her to follow. She swiftly shoots her head down by his feet and, using her snout, nods him up onto the back of her neck. Dean's barely registered what happened and where he is when the giant, muscular body—not his, the other one that's even bigger—scampers forward, each powerful paw landing with grace instead of the expected thumps. Dean notes for the first time that his baby doesn't have wings. He's very, very relieved.

"Go find Sam!" he calls. The dragon screeches happily and runs even faster, as they move deeper into an ever-darkening forest…

* * *

Sam is pacing back and forth across the flat top of a giant, speckled mushroom. _Come on. Dean, _he thinks, impatient and on edge. Every jumbo woodland critter has made an appearance since he got off the phone with his brother, and they all seem to think he's the greatest thing in the whole wide world. He's been hugged by a chipmunk, nuzzled by a rabbit, cuddled by a squirrel, and cooed to by a morning dove. None of them have been mean in anyway, but their adoration is somehow worse. They all make Sam feel so…small. The chipmunk alone was already as high as Sam's waist, and that's before it stood on its hind legs and brought him in for a snug. He keeps telling himself it's just an illusion—that he's the same height, but everything else is just bigger. It doesn't really help.

Now, as a raccoon the size of a grizzly waves from across the huge lake, Sam checks his phone for the zillionth time. As usual, no message waits for him. "Crap." The breeze flows past him, and his wings flutter in response. He has no control over them whatsoever—and no, that isn't helping his mood, either. One minute they're still, the next minute they're curling around him like a protective shroud, and a minute after that they're flexing, back and forth, almost as if they're eager to get in the air. But worst of all, whenever he turns, the upper wingtip of one or the other blankets his face. Sure enough, as Sam turns back to pace the other way, his left wing gently hits him in the nose and wipes off his face as he keeps walking. He knows he should stop pacing, but he can't. It's about the only thing keeping him from completely losing it right now.

Sam looks out at the vast grass field again, searching for any sign of his brother, but there's nothing. Just the lake and the big blades, gently swaying in the breeze. Sam's shoulders droop, and his wings droop with him. "Get off," he growls as he bats them away. He just needs to see Dean. At least with his brother next to him, he won't be alone here in Giant Land.

His phone rings—well, taps—and he fumbles it in surprise. "Sam? You there?" Dean's voice asks from the little device, now lying partially wedged in the mushroom's top. Sam picks it up and wipes the shroom goop off on his pants.

"Yeah, Dean, where the hell are you? I've been waiting for…" he checks his watch, "over half an hour!"

"Well I've been LOOKING for over half an hour," Dean snaps back, "and I haven't seen any giant lake or giant trees or giant ANYthing."

"What about giant flowers?" Sam tries.

"Yeah, that's covered under the 'no giant anything,' genius."

"Not even the huge purple ones with the yellow bells inside?! They're everywhere!"

Dean sighs. "No, Sam, not even the huge purple ones with the…" Dean pauses, and Sam listens in. "I think I see some way up ahead," Dean murmurs. "Do they make actual bell sounds?"

"Yeah, they sound just like jingle bells!" Sam cheers.

"The song or the sound?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know—that's why I'm asking you!"

It's Sam's turn to sigh. "The sound, Dean. Just get over here, okay? You're not gonna believe how huge they are."

"Okay okay, I'm coming. Stay on the line."

Now that he knows Dean is on the way, Sam feels like jumping for joy—and that kinda scares him. Sam Winchester does NOT jump for joy. So he keeps his bare feet firmly on the mushroom and watches for Dean. He hears his brother tell someone to 'wait here—don't wanna spook him.' "Who are you talking to?" Sam asks.

"It's a surprise," is all Dean will say.

"Great," Sam grumps, "just what I need, another—"

Sam freezes. Something immense has just entered into the field—so immense, in fact, that Sam can't even tell what it is. It's like another planet has just dropped down in front of him—that's how big it is.

"Sam?" Dean calls, and Sam can hear his voice in the distance.

"Shhh!" Sam scolds him through the phone. "I can hear you, you're close, but so is that thing."

"What thing?" Dean whispers.

"The giant…thing! Don't you see it?"

"No, I don't. I'm all alone out here. I don't see any of your giant flowers, either, Sam. Just some little ones over there."

The thing THUDs forward, and its shadow drapes over the giant lake and everything around, including Sam and the mushroom. The only thing that exists in front of Sam now is brown fur. Up down, left right. It's his entire world.

"Dean," Sam says in a hushed voice. "Get. Here. NOW. This thing is gonna crush me and not even notice!"

"Where did you say you were again?" Dean whispers, and again, Sam hears him on the phone and somewhere in the distance.

"On a giant speckled mushroom by the giant lake by the giant purple flowers with the yellow bells!" Sam whisper-shouts, throttling the phone in place of his brother's neck. "How many times do I have to TELL you?!" He hears Dean chuckle. "What's so funny?" The phone clicks off. "DEAN?! What's going on?"

Sam looks up as the shadow grows darker, and something that can only be described as the Hand of God for sheer size and might appears high above him. Sam actually lets out a little "eep!" of fear, and he jumps off the mushroom and runs. But the gargantuan hand soon grabs him anyway, pinching the scruff of his flannel together and lifting him up. The ground soon drops out of sight.

"No!" Sam kicks and punches and squirms, trying and trying to free himself. "I'm not letting you eat me!"

"Dude, relax," Dean's very loud voice says. "I like cheeseburgers, not fairies."

Sam is turned around until he faces Dean. His brother's nose is half as big as all of Sam, and his grin stretches far out to the left and right of the little captive. Sam just gapes.

"Dean, you're…GIGANTIC!" He's too stunned to state anything but the obvious, and Dean chuckles again.

"No, Sammy, 'fraid it's the other way around. I'm normal," he gestures to the surroundings, and he twirls Sam around by his shirt scruff so he can see for himself. "And you're tiny." Sam comes to a stop facing Dean again, and his brother smiles. "You're pretty cute, too."

Sam folds his arms, and his wings flutter as if they're just as irritated as their owner. "I'm not cute," Sam snits. "And how do you know that you're not a giant anyway, huh? Where's your proof? I could still be normal! The giant lake could still be a lake!"

"Funny, looks like a puddle to me," Dean replies. "Big puddle, sure, but still a puddle."

Sam just grumbles to himself, tugging at his flannel scruff still stuck between Dean's stupid big fingers. "Just lemme go."

"Suit yourself."

Dean releases him, and Sam plummets. "DEEEEAAAAAN!" Dean catches him in his palm and holds him back up, and Sam is glaring at him.

"What? You said you wanted me to let go, so I did! It's not my fault that you didn't fly…" Dean's eyebrows rise when Sam says something too quiet for Dean to hear. "What was that?"

"I said I CAN'T FLY, Dean."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Have you tried?"

"Sorta."

"How sorta?"

"Enough to know that the wings have minds of their own," Sam growls. "Drop it, okay?"

Dean looks at him more closely now. Mini-Sam is about five inches tall, same floppy hair and normal clothes, and his shimmering olive wings are almost as tall—or as short, really—as he is. They flutter in the breeze. Dean holds them up for a closer look, wondering if one of them is injured and that's why Sammy can't—

"Stop doing that," Sam grumbles.

"What?"

"Staring!"

Dean holds him back a little. "Why? You've been staring at me this whole time." He smirks and adds, "If you want your own little pair of furry underoos, I bet I could make one from a bunny tail—"

"NO I DON'T WANT MY OWN PAIR OF FURRY UNDEROOS!" Sam yells, wings flapping furiously.

"Uh, Sam?"

"Shut up, Dean!" Sam points his little index finger into the tip of Dean's nose. "The only thing I want right now are answers! I want to know where we are, why we're here, and who decided YOU get to be the big muscle man and I have to be the STUPID FAIRY!"

"The stupid fairy that's now flying."

"I—wha?" Sam looks down and sure enough, he's hovering over Dean's palm. The moment he notices, he falls on his little fairy ass, breathing hard.

"Guess you have to build up your strength for that," Dean observes. Sam just bitch faces him and looks down. He can't believe the size of Dean's legs. Even if he weren't a giant—and Sam still firmly believes Dean's big and Sam himself is still normal, despite the fairy wings—he'd still be staring at those bulging muscles all the same. The rest of Dean isn't much better—or rather, any less stare-worthy. The guy's pecs are like a rock face on a mountain, all strong and firm and huge. His arms are thick, his hands are strong…Sam looks down at himself and feels even scrawnier just by muscle comparison alone.

_And I am NOT scrawny!_ Sam yells in his head. His wings are flapping again, and he catches his brother smirking. "What?" Sam challenges.

"Nothing."

"Dean…"

"It's just funny, is all. You being so short and now you're so short-tempered, too."

"DEAN!"

"What? We've only been talking for a couple minutes, and you've already yelled at me three times! And I haven't even done anything except speak the truth."

Sam opens his mouth to yell...but stops himself. His little heart is pounding in his little chest. _What's wrong with me? _he can't help but wonder. _Why am I so angry?_

"Cheer up, Sammy," Dean smiles at him. "At least you still get to wear your normal clothes. This half-naked, half-fur deal? Not as comfy as you might think."

"Yeah…true…" Sam is still puzzling over his new emotional state; the anger left him as soon as he thought about it. He decides to keep a closer watch on himself until he figures out what's going on.

"So you flying or you riding?" Dean asks. Sam looks up, confused. "Me. Riding…er, no, bad choice of words, I meant riding along…shit, that's not much better…" Dean sighs and starts over. He lifts Sam up to his left shoulder. "Do you want to sit on my shoulder or fly right now?"

"Uh…neither?"

"Option One it is."

Dean dumps the little guy on his shoulder and walks them back toward the trees. Then he whistles and calls, "Found him, Baby! Come on out!"

The scream Sam lets out when the enormous black dragon emerges and tries to kiss him is so loud that it's heard in the next alternate universe over.


	2. No, Seriously, What the Hell?

**World of Winchester-Craft** (continued)

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter One.

**A/N:** Yay, you like it! You really like it! I'm so thankful for all the reviews :) This is the second half of the dream I had upon which this fic is based. It's just as goofy as the last one, heh. I'll have another, more important Author's Note at the end, so be sure to watch for it!

* * *

**Chapter Two: No, Seriously, What the Hell?**

Dean is stuck between a dragon whose feelings got hurt and a brother-turned-fairy who doesn't want to apologize because he's still scared and won't admit it. Dean isn't ready to deal with this emo crap right now: it's too early, and he hasn't even had his coffee yet. _If they even HAVE coffee here, _he thinks ruefully. So he rides in silence, his baby's head drooped low as she walks slowly through the forest, while Sam futzes with his amulet's cord. The feeling of teeny tiny knuckles hitting the back of his neck is WEIRD. Dean cringes and gets a teeny tiny punch for his trouble.

"Stay still," Sam grumbles. "I'm almost done." He grapples with the leather knot, easing it open a few millimeters more. The fact that the entire back of the band is caked in years of sweat, dried hair gel, and God knows what else is NOT helping. "How do you even have your necklace back anyway?" Sam asks as he unties the last snag. "I saw you give it to Cas."

"No idea. Just another friggin' mystery." His amulet finally lets up its brutal assault on his Adam's apple, and Dean breathes out—that's SO much better. Sam ties the new knot and walks back to Dean's shoulder. "Thanks, Sammy," Dean smiles.

Sam brushes off his hands, and just as he's about to sit back down on Dean's shoulder, a great rumble crashes through the land. Its tremors rattle up through Dean's body and into Sam, but the fairy refuses to jump, even though every reflex is telling him to. Then the dragon looks up at them and Sam's little arms and legs clamp onto the side of Dean's face of their own accord.

"Dude," is all Dean says. Sam doesn't move, so Dean peels him off and holds him up by his left wing. "You really have to get over this. She's the Impala."

"She's a dragon!"

"Yeah, but she's still my baby, and she still loves us both. Doncha girl..." He scratches down her neck, and she chirrups. Sam isn't at all comforted by it.

"But she's huge," he protests, curled up and tugging to get his wing free from Dean's grasp. "EVERYthing's huge!" Another tug. "And I'm," tug, "NOT," tug-tug, "used," tuuuuuug, "to looking UP!" Sam breaks free on the final word, and he falls onto the dragon's back. The Impala curls her neck around and sniffs at the little guy, and Sam is frozen with fear. She licks him once—a dragon peck on the cheek—and chirps something at Dean.

"He's fine," Dean reassures her. "He's just pissy cos he's not the Ginormotron anymore." Dean smirks down at Sam. "I am." Sam just crosses his arms and pouts. Then the great rumble comes again, shaking Sam off balance. He tumbles over the black-scale cliff, but Dean catches him and sets him back on his shoulder. His hand comes down and pats his six-pack.

"Guess I'm hungry," he mutters. Sam gapes at him, flabbergasted.

"That earthquake is your STOMACH?!"

"You sound surprised," Dean says with another smirk. He leans forward a little and asks, "Think you could find us some breakfast, Babe?"

The dragon purrs and picks up her pace. "I wonder what dragons eat," he asks himself. Sam doesn't say anything, so Dean pats his very little brother on his head. "Don't worry, Sammy! I'm sure fairies aren't part of her food chain."

"Wow, that makes me feel so much better," Sam mutters. Dean either doesn't hear him or ignores him, and Sam doesn't care either way. He wants out of this stupid fairy body NOW, before he gets scared again by the next little thing and loses yet another bit of his dignity.

Two seconds later, a cloud passes over the sun. Sam's arms are clamped around Dean's throat the moment the shadow hits them. Dean sighs and pulls his brother off him again. He opens up his pouch and dumps the fairy inside.

"What the hell, Dean?!"

"If you can't see anything, you won't freak out," Dean tells him. Sam scowls up at him, and Dean nods with understanding. "Yeah, I know, it sucks out loud. But there's nothing we can do about it right now. Let's just get some food and figure things out, like we always do. All right?" Sam nods, though he still looks unhappy. Dean feels for the guy, and silently thanks whoever did this to him for making him big instead of teeny. "Try and get comfy," Dean says. "I'll keep you safe."

Daylight twists away as the top of the pouch shuts, and Sam sits down on top of a coin. He leans his back against the suede and lets out a long sigh, wondering just how long this nightmare is going to last.

* * *

Sometime later (Sam doesn't know how long, exactly, since his watch is nowhere around), he feels the Impala slow down. The pouch opens, and Dean grins down at him. "Get out here so I can hit you with the 'toldja so's."

Sam stands up and pokes his head out of the pouch. They're coming up to a tavern straight out of yore, thatched roof and everything. Dean points to what's above the building, and Sam is grumpy at once.

"Oh COME ON!"

Two giants are sitting behind the tavern, playing cards. The building is only as tall as their folded knees. "See Sammy? THEY are giants," Dean explains in a condescending voice. "Which means I'M normal and YOU'RE tiny."

"Congratulations," Sam seethes, feeling smaller than ever now that his last shred of hope has been ripped away from him. The Impala stops in front of the tavern, and Dean hops off. Sam is thrown back into the pouch, and Dean gently scoops him out.

"Sorry about that." Sam doesn't answer him. Doesn't even look at him. Dean sets him back on his shoulder and has a look at the place. He can smell something yummy inside and his mouth waters. The Impala rubs her snout against Dean's back, and Dean gives her a pet. "Wait here, Girl. I'll try and scrounge up some dragon food while I'm in there."

Dean steps up to the door and only now sees that he's taller than it by quite a bit. He estimates that he's now about 8 feet tall. His shoulders are wider than the door as well.

"Yeah, YOU'RE the normal one," Sam deadpans.

"Oh sorry, Sam, you're right—being tiny and having wings is way more normal than just being tall," Dean throws back. He feels the glare he's getting from Sam and turns his own glare down at him. Sam's frown wipes off at once, replaced by…intimidation? Now Dean feels bad. He clears his throat. "Coffee first, arguing later," he says as he ducks down, turns sideways, and opens the door wide. The moment he steps in and straightens up, a group of Vikings in the back of the room stand up and thump their chests.

"HAIL DEAN the DESTROYER!" their deep voices call in unison. Dean looks over at him, and they all raise their huge steins in a salute. Dean gives a wave and smiles, and then asks Sam through his teeth, "Why did they just call me that?"

"No idea," Sam says back in the same manner, trying to smile his way out of being glared at by a few of those same Vikings. Dean makes a beeline for an empty table near the back and sits down in a chair that's way too small for him. It cracks under his weight, and Dean hits the floor.

"Dean the Destroyer is right," Sam smirks, stepping off Dean's shoulder and onto the table. Dean just grumbles and looks around for a better chair, only to get an ornate, high-backed easy chair pushed up behind him.

"Deepest apologies, Hero," the plump barmaid says. "Most of our chairs are old and need to be replaced. This one is much more suited to a man of your most honorable reputation." Dean sits down, and the woman moves to the side of the table, her round face a mix of eager-to-please and hope-he-isn't-mad. Sam's face is completely opposite—give-me-a-break.

"What may I bring you and your traveling companion?" she asks, glancing at the fairy.

"Coffee," Dean replies. "Lots and lots of coffee."

She frowns, confused. "Coffee, m'lord?"

"Yeah, coffee. Dark? Smooth? Caffienated?"

"You drink it for breakfast," Sam offers, wanting a cuppa joe just as badly as his brother. "Or if you have to stay awake at night."

The woman lights up. "Oh, you mean slug! At once and without delay." She scurries off to the kitchen, leaving the boys looking at each other with dread.

"Slug," the boys repeat together, making sure they both heard right. Then they sigh and mirror each other as they rub their foreheads. "If she brings out a slug, I'm outta here before the bug juice hits the cup," Dean swears.

"What if it's already mixed up?" Sam asks, just as disgusted. "What if it's some pitcher of slug guts and newt eyes and purple stuff?"

"What's wrong with purple stuff?"

"Nothing if it's Kool-Ade. But if they don't even have coffee around here, what's the chance they'll have Kool-Ade?"

They don't get a chance to ponder, as the woman comes back with what looks like a regular coffee urn and two stoneware cups, one large and one doll-sized. She also has a little chair and table, and she sets those down first. Sam takes his seat, feeling normal for a few seconds, until the gigantic coffee urn is set down right next to him. "Freshly brewed," the barmaid says with a smile, resting both cups on their respective tables, and not spilling a drop from either. "Anything to eat?"

The boys don't reply, just stare at the murky grey liquid in their cups. "Just wave if you need anything else," she says cheerily, and she moves on to other customers. Dean looks at Sam, then to the cup, then at Sam. Sam does likewise. Dean takes a tentative sniff. To his great surprise, his nose is filled with a java-like aroma.

"The smell's right," he murmurs. "You think…?"

"Only one way to find out," Sam says. They lift the cups to their lips, ready themselves, and take a sip. By some miracle, it isn't gross at all. It's actually great—deep roasted and savory, with a slight peppery taste at the very end. They swish it around, each of them feeling for bug antennae or spider legs, but they find nothing but chicory goodness.

"Huh," they huh. And then they drink again. As the 'slug' calms their nerves, they each have a look around at the other patrons. Sam spots a cow sitting at the opposite corner, chatting to a centaur. Not mooing—chatting, and with a southern drawl no less. Dean sees a lawn gnome, only real and moving and everything, spank a big breasted Valkyrie as she walks by. She promptly whirls around and backhands him through the wall. Then she catches Dean looking at her and offers him a sly smile, sauntering in her gleaming armor as she disappears into another room.

"All right, so this place isn't all bad," Dean says, smiling into his cup as he takes another sip. Sam rolls his eyes and, looking ceiling-ward, sees something flying down at him. He ducks on instinct and hears light laughter, bright as sunshine.

"I'm not going to bite you know," teases a feminine voice. Sam looks up and finds a girl fairy, roughly his age and, to his great pleasure, shorter than he is. Her pointy ears hold back her long, dark hair, and she's dressed in denim capris and a sparkly green tank top. Her blue wings stick right out of her back and through the shirt, but there are no holes in the fabric. Sam twists around to see if his are the same, and sure enough, he sees his wings magically sticking out through his shirt, no tears or folds. Then his chin gets cupped as the fairy gently turns his face to hers. A tiny pair of cat-eye glasses sits on her nose, and she flashes her long eyelashes at him. "I'm Celeste," she says, holding out her hand.

"Sam," he shakes back. "And this is my brother, Dean." The girl fairy looks up at Dean, shudders, turns back to Sam, looking grossed out.

"That oaf is your _brother_?!" she whispers loudly. "Eww! Were you hit by a curse or something?"

"Eww?" Dean repeats, eyebrows up and insulted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It MEANS that our kind is better than your kind," she informs him, like it's so painfully obvious. Dean's eyebrows drop into a furrow, and she pats his thumb. "Don't worry," she patronizes as she promptly wipes her hand on her pants, "I don't expect your infantile mind to understand."

The furrow becomes a glare. "Infantile?"

She laughs. "Ohhh, I get it!" She turns to Sam. "He's your parrot! Well, that's giving him way too much credit—parrots are smarter and smell better, too. But a pet barbarian—now THAT makes sense."

Sam laughs—he can't help it. But a death glare from Dean wipes the smirk off in seconds. "Come on, Sam," Celeste smiles, "the VIP section is right above you." She points to the rafters, where a flock of fairies sit in little gilded chairs around tables covered in tiny food and shimmering tablecloths. "You belong up there with us, not down here in the mud."

"No, I—it's fine," Sam says, tugging loose of her hold. "I want to stay with my brother."

"Aw, it's all right, Sam, go sit with your fancy new friend." Dean glowers at the girl fairy and adds, "Maybe she'll give you your very own stick to shove up your ass so you can be just like her."

"Wow, Sam, your pet can actually form long sentences! I'm impressed."

A shadow comes over the table, and all three of them look up and find three Vikings glaring back down. "Excuse the intrusion, Great One," the burly red-beard speaks, "but why do you allow these overgrown flies to live?"

"Because one of them is my brother," Dean tells them, "and the other one ain't worth the squished fairy guts on my hand."

"Squishing," Celeste barks, rolling her eyes. "That's your answer to everything, isn't it warrior? Smash and bash."

One of the Vikings puts his huge fist over her head. "It's always worked for me."

Several more fairies appear, sparkling dust whooshing from their wings, and as they hold their arms out in front of them, all of the Vikings get thrown into the back booth, smashing the table and chairs. The rest of the Vikings storm over now and grab the fairies, squeezing them in their fists. The fairies wriggle free, and all the Vikings tip upside down and are dropped to the ground on their horned helmets. "Stupid brutes!" all the fairies cry—save for Sam, who is just trying to stay out of the line of fire. The Vikings get back up and smack the fairies into the wall. "Little pests," the warriors grumble—save for Dean, who just wants to drink his slug. The fairies and Vikings come back for another round, fists and magic and insults at the ready.

"ENOUGH!" a woman's voice shouts. The fairy vs. Viking brawl freezes as a hooded figure approaches. Her deep purple and silver robes cover her head to toe. Two onyx eyes ringed by glowing white stare out from her shadowed face. She steps forward and shoos the fairies away. "Back to your feasting. I will tell Sam what he needs to know." The fairies each turn their noses to the sky in a group 'hmmpf!' as they fly away. Then the woman turns to the Vikings. "You, too. I have urgent business with the Great One." The Vikings trudge away, grumbling amongst themselves. The woman finally sets her gaze on the boys. "Well? Sam, Dean—you going to invite me to sit down or what? I don't have all day."

She flips her hood back, and the boys' eyes boggle. The now familiar woman frowns at them both, her black hair still curly but colored in shiny gold. "Missouri?!" Sam asks, and she looks at the fairy.

"Missouri? What kind of ridiculous name is that?" She snags the chair the barmaid has brought over and sits down. "I'm Mississippi."

"Oh yeah, that's much better," Dean cracks. She glares at him, and Dean swears he sees real fire in her eyes, so he sips his slug and keeps quiet. Sam clears his throat.

"So, ah…Mississippi…I don't suppose you know—"

"Where you are, what you're doing here, and why you're a fairy and your brother's a barbarian," she finishes. "Well of course I know! I'm a mystic, Sam. I know just about everything, and what I don't know doesn't need to be known because it don't matter." The barmaid pours her some slug, and Mississippi picks up the cup, takes a little sip, and 'mm's softly. She snaps her fingers and a sugar spoon appears in her hands, sugar already loaded—if it is sugar. She tips the contents into the cup and stirs. Takes another sip. Breathes in the aroma. Takes a third sip. Sits content with the cup in her hand. Then Dean ahem-hems her, and she looks up at him.

"So, answers?" He endures another glare, but this time he doesn't back down. "Oh no, it's all right, just take your time. We'll just be over here, wondering what the hell is going on."

"Boy, I travelled nearly 10,000 miles to get here today. You can wait for one minute while I enjoy some refreshments." She takes a few more sips. Dean drums his fingers on the table, and the vibrations rattle the little table and cup in front of Sam. But Sam doesn't comment—he's just as impatient as Dean. Finally, Mississippi finishes her slug and smiles at them both.

"All right! Let's take a look at you both." She takes Dean's huge hand in her right, and Sam's tiny hand in her left, holding it delicately with her finger and thumb. She closes her eyes and concentrates. "Mm-mm-mm," she says with a head shake—same words as the Campbell's Soup ads but sounding aggrieved instead of agreeable. "You poor boys…so much hurt." Her eyes open and she pats their hands. "So much pain in your short lives. It's no wonder why you've been sent here."

"Where is here?" Sam asks, growing frustrated. "Who sent us? WHY?!"

"I'm getting to it," she snaps, glaring at the fairy now. "Honestly, didn't anyone ever teach you not to interrupt?" She resettles herself and starts again. "You're in Fantasia, and NO," she cuts Dean off when his eyes light up, "not the same Fantasia as the book and the movie. I'm so sick of that question from all you travelers."

Dean is surprised. "You mean we're not the first?"

"Hardly. Folks from every parallel world out there have been sent here since time began, all of them with lessons to learn." She smiles at Sam's curiosity. "That's right, Sam. You're in a parallel world. And the only way back to your own is to learn your intended lessons."

Sam looks at Dean. "What lessons?" Dean asks for them both.

"Honey, I'm a mystic, not a psychic. I don't know the answer to that."

"But you just told us you know everything!"

"I told you I know just ABOUT everything. Don't split hairs." She whacks him on top of his head with her sugar spoon. She ignores Dean's "OW!" and looks back at Sam, who wisely keeps quiet. "I don't know who sent you here. I never do. But every traveler that has ever come here has only been able to leave after learning a truth, or a lesson…some very personal meaning that will change his or her life. If you make it out—"

"You mean 'when,'" Sam corrects her.

"I mean 'if'! Stop interrupting me!" Mississippi smacks him with the spoon too, and he wraps his arms around his head as he grunts in pain. She ignores that as well. "Not everyone makes it out of here. They stay stuck as their metaphorical forms forever." She notes their confusion. "The way you look in this world is based on metaphor—in your case, how you two really see each other."

"Say what now?" Dean asks. "You're telling me my brother sees me as a muscle-man with a fur kink?"

"And my brother sees me as a stupid fairy with no shoes?" Sam sasses.

"In a way, yes," she says simply. Both boys frown at that, though more at each other than her. "Dean, your brother has always seen you as strong, capable—a larger-than-life hero. As a child, he even made a comic strip about you, calling you Dean the Destroyer. You were a famous monster slayer and were known throughout the land."

Sam's little face turns red, making him look like a fairy topped with a cherry. Dean grins, but his eyes are awestruck instead of teasing. "You made a comic book about me?"

"It was just scribbles in a notebook…"

"Dude, that is so cool!" Dean gets the bitch face, but he waves it off. "I'm serious, Sam! Do you still have it?"

"Course not," Sam answers with another eye-roll. "I got rid of it before I was a teenager." He's surprised at how disappointed Dean looks at the news.

"That's too bad," Dean sighs. "Man that would've made my YEAR when I was a kid. Why didn't you ever let me see it?"

"Because, Sam also sees you as an overbearing, overprotective jerk whose loud mouth and bawdy ways get you both into trouble all the time. Hence in this world, you're a barbarian: strong, powerful, heroic, but a trouble magnet who often acts before he thinks." She wrinkles her nose. "Not to mention a little dim and a lot ripe…"

Dean gives his little brother a 'really?' look. "You saying I'm stupid and smelly?"

"A few more showers wouldn't hurt," Sam mumbles, still cherry-red. "And have you smelled your armpits today?"

Dean takes a whiff of himself and nearly gags. "Touché," he concedes. "Well fine, Sammy, you're the fairy—magic-me up some deodorant."

"He can't perform magic," Mississippi tells them both. "He doesn't have any magic dust yet. Check your pouch, Dean."

Dean puts the large bag on the table, and Mississippi pulls out one of the vials of sparkly stuff. She gestures for Sam to stand up and turn around, so he obliges, but keeps his eyes on her. She pops open the vial and pours a little over his head. His wings flutter until they're shimmering in the stuff, and then he's airborne. And smiling. He does a loop-di-loop above Dean's head and giggles.

"Sammy…did you just…giggle?"

"No!" Sam does a corkscrew turn and giggles again as he lands on Dean's hair. "Okay…maybe." He flexes his wings, so happy they're doing what they're told now. "I'm not tired anymore! Is that because of the dust?"

Mississippi nods. "You just needs a re-sprinkling every now and then," she tells him as she hands the vial back to Dean. "Fairy magic requires magic dust, and dust can get used up or wiped off. That's why your brother carries a supply, just in case."

Sam flutters back to the table. "But how did Dean know I'd need dust if he's just learning about it now?"

"Because Dean knows what you need. Always has. In fact, it's one of the reasons you're a fairy, Sam." She smiles when he frowns. "He's always looked out for you and put you before his own needs. You want your freedom, he gives you room. You want support, he's right there. You need encouragement, and he's the first one to speak up."

"Still doesn't explain why I'm a fairy," Sam says, though not in a cutting way. She laughs and shakes her head at him, smiling.

"Dean gave you _wings_, Sam—all your life. Even when he knew you'd use them to leave him, again and again." Sam peers up at Dean at that and finds his brother looking down, unwilling to meet his eye. "That's why you're a fairy," Mississippi goes on, "one of the most powerful and intelligent creatures in our world, complete with wings that will take you anywhere."

"So why can't I have wings but still be my normal size?" Sam vents. "Why do I have to be so short?"

"Because Dean will always, ALWAYS see you as his little brother: small, vulnerable, and in constant need of protection. So wings plus little equals fairy. And then of course there's the snooty factor…"

"Snooty?" Sam balks. Mississippi sighs and nods.

"Unfortunately, fairies KNOW how smart and powerful they are. They're a little snooty about it—kind of like Dean feels you can be with him."

Sam gives Dean a dark look, and Dean shrugs. "What? Just a few seconds ago I asked if you thought I was stupid and smelly. You answered the smelly part but skipped the stupid part, and I think we both know why."

Sam gapes. "You really think I think you're stupid?" Dean doesn't answer him, and it makes Sam even more incensed. "Dean—"

"Boys, please. My head hurts and the last thing I need is your bickering making it worse." Mississippi waits until the two of them look back at her until she speaks again. "Like it or not, this is how you see each other. I'd focus less on what's upsetting you and more on what you need to do to get out of here."

"Fine," Dean grunts. "Where do we start the lesson learning?"

"I'd start by asking the Old Man in the Mountain. He gives good advice. Here," she snaps her fingers and a map appears in her hand. "This will lead you to him. I only hope you're more polite to him than you were to me. He'll smack you down without a thought." She stands up. "But, play your cards right, and you'll get the help you need." She sets some coins on the table. "And looking at you two, you're gonna need a lot of help." She turns to leave. "Best of luck to you both."

"Wait, one last thing," Dean calls. She turns around, and he stands up. "You wouldn't happen to know what dragons eat…?"

* * *

A few minutes later and they're on their way again, Sam and Dean munching on something called basket cakes—round waffles made with pancake batter, or something very close to it in both taste and texture. The Impala is happily sated on a fresh serving of gems and limestone, purring away as they race along the countryside toward the foothills in the distance. Dean is reading from a little booklet that Mississippi gave him, entitled Basic Dragon Care: How to Keep Yourself Alive by Keeping Your Dragon Happy.

"This is so cool," Dean tells Sam, who is again on Dean's shoulder. "The limestone reacts with her stomach acid and fuels her fire, and the gemstones break down the rock into smaller pieces so she doesn't get a tummy ache."

"That's great, Dean…" Sam mumbles. Dean looks over at him with a slight frown. Sam's eyes are downcast.

"Sam?"

"Nothing."

Dean keeps his eyes on his little brother. "_Sam…_"

"Whatever, Dean. You won't want to talk about it anyway."

"What's that?"

"What Mississippi said. "Why we're like this." The little hazel eyes look up at Dean. "How we see each other."

Dean tilts his head once back and forth. "You're right. Don't wanna talk about it."

"But Dean—"

"I think that's the place." Dean points up ahead to a lone mountain. Well, more of a craggy hill than a mountain because it isn't all that high. But it matches the picture on the map, so Dean nudges the Impala to walk that way. Sam huffs and flies off Dean's shoulder, heading toward the mountain. Dean heard the huff, no doubt from Sam being pissed about their lack of Big Conversation, but he keeps his walls up. _There's nothing to talk about, Sammy, _he thinks. _You ARE my little brother and that'll never change. Just like you'll never see me as anything but your stupid big brother who can't do anything right except hunt monsters. And I do that wrong, too. _It stabs Dean's heart to think it. It hurts even more to know that he agrees with his brother's judgment. But he won't think about that now—he wants answers first. So he jumps off the dragon's back as they reach the foot of the foothill. Sam is hovering near a tree.

"I think I see a cave way up there. That must be where he lives." Sam flies higher for a better look, leaving Dean on the ground.

"Guess I'm climbing," he grumps.

Sam flutters halfway up the hill, feeling exhilarated and extremely uncomfortable at the same time. The breeze hits his wings like a lover's kiss, urging him to just fly and be free of every care. But the fact that he has wings at all, and now understands why, makes him want to drop to the ground and stomp his way into the nearest hole. It doesn't matter how Mississippi sugar-coated it—Sam heard what he's long suspected, that Dean sees him as his puny little brother who will never, ever be good enough for anything. _And why, Dean? I know I blew it on the trust issue, but I'm trying here. Are you ever going to let me stand beside you as an equal? Cos I'm sick of standing behind you like some damsel in distress…_

Sam hears rumbling beneath him and rolls his eyes. "How can you still be hungry after all those waffle things?"

Dean, halfway up the mountain, replies, "That…wasn't me, Sammy."

The rumbling starts in again, and the entire mountain shakes. Rocks and tree branches start falling down, and Dean presses himself against the rock face to avoid it. Of course, then the rock face becomes a face made out of rock, and Dean discovers that he's holding on to its nose.

"GIT OFFA ME!" a loud yet strangely familiar voice bellows. The earthquake doubles in strength and shakes Dean into freefall. Sam flies down after him, but he isn't fast enough: Dean's back crashes into a tree, then THROUGH the tree, splitting it like a banana being peeled. Sam lands on part of the broken trunk and looks down into the Dean-shaped hole in the ground.

"Dean! You all right? Speak to me!"

Dean groans and sits up, hand to his aching back. He nods that he's fine, but then his mouth drops when he looks up at the mountain. Sam frowns, so Dean points for Sam to turn around and look. The rocky face has fully formed, complete with a beard made out of red granite, two dark, crystalline eyes, and a cliff that looks a heckuva lot like the brim of a trucker's hat.

"What the hell're you doing crawlin' all over my face?" Bobby the Mountain barks down at Dean.

"What the hell're YOU doing being a freakin' mountain, Bobby?!" Dean shoots back, freaked out and not even trying to hide it.

"I'm not Bobby," the mountain grumbles. "Don't have a name. Some people call me the Old Man on account I've been around for so long…" The eyes narrow. "Do I look old t'you?" Both boys shake their heads vigorously no. The mountain's chin nods. "Uh-huh. So, g'wan…ask your question. It's why you're here, ain't it?"

Dean and Sam look at each other, gesturing for the other to go ahead. They do Rock Paper Scissors, and for the first time in his life, Dean doesn't pick scissors—he picks paper. Sam scowls at Dean's grin before he flies up to Bobby's enormous face.

"Do you know why we're here?"

"To ask a question, genius."

"No, I know that…I mean, Mississippi sent us—"

"Oh yeah? How's she doing?"

Sam is taken aback at the unexpected question. "She's fine," he nods. "She seemed...fine."

"That's good."

The wind blows through the trees as Sam and Bobby stare at each other in awkward silence. Dean finally clears his throat and Sam gets back in the game. "She told us we have to learn some sort of lesson while we're here. Do you know what it is?"

"Yes."

They wait. Bobby says nothing else. "Do you want to tell us what it is, Chuckles?" Dean asks, growing annoyed.

"Doesn't work that way, smartass. How're you supposed to learn anything if I tell you what to learn?"

"So you can't help us," Dean says flatly. "Great, thanks for nothing. Let's go, Sam."

The mountain rumbles. "Well if that's gonna be yer attitude, you'll never get out of here."

"If I could just get some damn answers, I wouldn't have the attitude!"

"Dean, calm down," Sam says. "We can't expect him to just help us like Bobby does. He isn't really Bobby."

"Don't remind me..." Dean gives Fobby (that would be Fake Bobby in Dean Speak) a final glare and turns his back on him, heading back toward the waiting Impala. The mountain thunders out a sigh.

"Fine, if I hafta spell it out for you…" Dean glances back at Fobby's words, and Fobby regards them both. "Most folks come to Fantasia alone. You two arrived together. Think that's a coincidence?"

The brothers look at each other again. "Maybe we have to learn the same lesson?" Sam proposes.

"Or maybe the lesson is about the two of us?" Dean shrugs.

"Congratulations, you're both right. Maybe you two actually have a shot at getting out of here alive after all." The face in the rock begins to fade away. "Now lemme sleep. And don't come back for answers—you already know whatcha need to do." Fobby disappears, leaving the fairy and barbarian alone with their dragon.

"Well that was enjoyable," Dean sighs. Sam flutters up to Dean's shoulder and sits down, sighing as well.

"So we know jack squat and we're in a strange land and have no idea where to go or what to do," Sam sums up.

"Pretty much." Dean looks at him. "So where do we start?"

* * *

**A/N Additional:** Well, answer the man! That is where my dream ended. From this point on, this fic will be written by prompts from you, the reader! Tell me where you want them to go, what to do, who to meet (both in cameo form like Missouri and Bobby and any kind of creature you'd like), what to fight, how to hurt the boys, etc. I only have a few ground rules:

1. NO mpreg. I'm sorry, I think mpreg is stupid. And I'd rather not go into slash, either, although if someone gives me a good enough prompt, I'll make an exception for a chapter.

2. No calling Ruby! I have an idea for that beeyotch later in the story, so I've got dibs, mwahaha.

3. I already have the ending planned and yes, I know why the boys are there and who sent them. So don't ask and don't tell.

Other than that? You got it :) Can't wait to hear what you come up with! I'm posting on both and on my LJ, so I'll take prompts from both…


	3. Two Suckers in Candyland

**World of Winchester-Craft** (continued)

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter One.

**A/N:** Wow, thanks for all the reviews and the prompts! I'm making a master list of prompts and will do my best to get to as many as possible before story's end. So keep 'em coming! This first prompt chapter is for my dear friend Katiki, who had the idea of the map telling them where they had to go and prompted me with Candyland. I hope you all like what I came up with…

* * *

**Chapter Three: Two Suckers in Candyland**

Since they have no idea where to go to start their questy search thinger, Sam and Dean leave it up to the Impala to decide for them. She sniffs the air and takes them northeast, traveling parallel to the mountain range in the distance. The air grows steadily colder. Sam is soon shivering from his usual perch atop Dean's shoulder, and Dean takes pity on the little guy and scoops him into his hand, gently holding him against his chest like a little doll. Sam is squirming at once.

"Deeeean—"

"Save it. You're cold, I'm not. It's either this or you conjure up a jacket for yourself. So what's it gonna be?" Dean looks down at Sam's little face and finds it troubled. "What's wrong?" Sam opens his mouth, but Dean points at him, adding, "And don't say 'nothing' when we both know it's 'something.' Is this still about what we look like here? Cos I'm not exactly happy with it either, but right now we're kinda stuck like this. No point in bitching about it when there's nothing we can do."

"It isn't that," Sam mutters, though he is still upset about it. Dean waits, keeping his stare on his little brother, and Sam sighs, knowing there's no way out of this one. "Magic," he states. Dean's eyebrows rise up.

"Magic?"

"Yeah, Dean, magic." Sam forces himself to look Dean in his big green eyes and asks, "Aren't you worried?"

"About…?"

"About ME having magic powers again."

Dean gives a half smile and looks down, but not at Sam. "It's not the same, Sammy."

"How do you know?" Sam challenges. "What if I lose control? What if the magic hurts people? What if I hurt YOU?"

"Okay, slow that brain train down. First off, fairy magic is powered by sparkly dust. And I don't know what it's made of or where it comes from, but I really don't think there's any demon blood in your Tinkerbell fuel."

"Yeah, but—"

"Second," Dean calls, cutting him off, "the Sam I know just loves doing research on pretty much everything, and I'll bet all the gold coins I have that he'll be nose deep in huge, dusty book sometime soon, reading everything there is on fairy lore. Right?" Sam doesn't reply, so Dean lifts his little chin up with his pinky finger. "Riiiiight?"

"I guess," Sam admits with a slump of his shoulders. "Your point?"

"Don't make trouble where there isn't any. We've got enough to deal with already…" Dean trails off when he sees a faint light emanating from inside his leather pouch. "The hell?" He releases Sam (who flutters alongside him) and flips the suede flap up. The map that Mississippi gave them to find Fobby is glowing.

"The hell?" Sam repeats as Dean starts to unroll the map. They both watch as the ink on the map shines bright yellow and disappears, only to be replaced by new ink seconds later. The sketch of the mountain they just visited reappears at the bottom left of the map. A dotted line leads away from it, crawling up the map an inch before a sketch of a dragon emerges from the paper. Then the dotted line turns to joined arrows that scrawl up and around as a third image appears. The line stops at a newly-etched town, complete with an X marking the spot. Sam flies right up to the paper and squints at the tiny sign by the X.

"What's it say?" Dean asks him.

"Looks like…Candyland? That can't be right…"

"Candyland? Seriously? What's next, Chutes and Ladders-ville?"

Sam shakes his head. "Knowing our luck?"

"What luck?"

"Exactly."

Dean looks back at the map. "So why did Candyland appear on the map?"

The arrows in the line start to glow in succession at hiss question, lighting the way toward the town. "I think it's where we're supposed to go," Sam answers.

"For what?"

Sam flutters away and stands on Dean's shoulders. "No idea."

"Great." Dean adjusts how he's sitting on the Impala's back and sighs again. "Well, at least we have a destination now. It's a start." He pats his baby on her neck, and she chirps and looks back at him. "Looks like we're visiting this Candyland place, babe," he shows her on the map. "Think you can find it?"

She gives him a "hmmpf," smoke coming out of her nostrils in the shape of two frowny faces, and Dean grins. "Sorry. Of course you can." She chirps again in a 'that's better' tone and licks his face before she turns away and switches course. Dean looks over at Sam, who is shivering even worse than before. He reaches over to scoop him up again, but Sam flinches away. The little eyes shut and the wings flutter hard, making the younger Winchester look like a hummingbird for a moment. Then, in a poof of sparkles, Sam's brown winter jacket appears. Unfortunately, it's Sam's usual size, and it covers both him and Dean's shoulder.

"Looks like you need some practice, Sammy," Dean says as he lifts the jacket away. Sam just fumes and tries again. The jacket shrinks until it's fairy-sized, but the dark brown is replaced by bright pink with a rainbow print. Dean grins. Sam glares.

"Shut up, Dean," he grumbles, sliding his arms into the jacket and turning away from his brother's highly amused face.

Dean's stomach growls and he pretends he doesn't see Sam's eyes roll as he rummages through the pouch for more basket cakes. He only finds one.

"Don't suppose you could poof up some more of those?" he asks as he chews.

"I can't get my own jacket right," Sam snaps. "You really think I'll get foreign food on the first try?"

"Well, you could TRY…" That earns Dean a really deep glare. "Or not…" Dean's stomach growls again, sounding almost insistent. "It's like a black hole down there today," he murmurs.

"What do you mean today?"

"Shut up, Sam."

* * *

_Twenty minutes later…_

"Still hungry, Sam."

"Still don't care, Dean."

* * *

_Forty-seven minutes after that…_

Sam's little jacket erupts in magic sparkles again, and when they clear, every rainbow is sequined, and rhinestones line every cloud. Sam slumps at his latest failure.

"Stop bedazzling your jacket and magic me up some damn food!" Dean growls. His stomach adds its own growl right after. Sam ignores them both.

* * *

_Quite a while later, after the Impala saw a big bunny and chased after it, both boys hanging onto her chrome horns for dear life…_

"Guess she likes meat too," Dean muses as his baby finishes off her snack. Sam nods, still clinging to the left chrome horn. "You know who ELSE likes meat…" Dean leads, but Sam glares at him. Dean folds his arms and pouts. "I'm hungry."

* * *

_Five minutes more, after an army of huge, mutant bunnies emerged from the ground and chased after the Impala for killing their cousin, and the Impala had to hide in a cave and hope the mutant bunnies wouldn't find her, and they didn't, but they nearly did, and she was scared all the same cos DUDE, mutant bunnies…_

"It's okay, baby," Dean soothes as he strokes his hand along her jaw line. She buries her huge dragon head into his entire body, chirping forlornly. "Hey, don't be embarrassed—it's happened to all of us. I got scared by a damn cat when I had the fear sickness, remember? And Sammy still has the clown thing…"

Dean's stomach growls so loudly that the sound crashes through the cave, startling the Impala and making Sam jump and glue himself to Dean's neck. Dean just rubs his aching belly. "I know," he says to it. "Blame Sam for being mean and making us starve."

"I'm NOT being mean, I'm being careful! Nothing's what it seems here, Dean. What if I make you cookies and they're filled with poison?"

Dean's stomach rumbles at 'cookies.' "We're willing to take that chance."

Sam flutters in front of Dean's face and folds his arms. "I'm not going to risk my magic hurting you in any way, Dean. Not till I get more control."

"So you'll wait till you have control to hurt me?" Dean smirks. Sam just flutters away. "What? You're the one that said it!"

"Can we just go now?" Sam asks, hovering near the cave's mouth. Dean waves 'fine' and climbs up onto the Impala's back, stomach growling away again.

"We'll eat when we get to Candyland," Sam promises. "It can't be that much further."

Dean puts a hand to his slightly-dizzy head as he nods. "Hope not. This isn't normal, Sam." He shuts his eyes for a moment, and Sam looks at him, momentarily worried. Dean just heaves a sigh and looks around again. "They have evil bunnies, but not one drive-thru," he complains. "Not even a dragon-thru! This place is crazy. I want to talk to the douche in charge."

"Yeah, you get right on that, Dean," Sam quips. He tucks the worry away. Dean is fine. _He's always hungry,_ Sam thinks. _Nothing new there. Right?_

* * *

Hours later, he knows how wrong he was. Dean is hunched way over, his chest and the side of his face leaning on the Impala's neck, as hunger-starved eyes gaze out at unfocused scenery. His stomach stopped growling long ago, and Dean's been growing weaker by the minute. Sam is worried out of his little freaking fairy mind.

"Hang on, Dean, almost there," Sam says for the umpteenth time, praying that Dean will take that literally: the fairy has no idea what he'd do if Dean's huge and heavy body would fall off the dragon. Dean only licks his cracked lips in reply. Sam checks the map again, also for the umpteenth time, making sure they're still on track. And they are—in fact, the map says they're there. But Sam looks around and sees nothing. The green hills long ago turned to flat, lifeless fields, dead trees sticking out of the landscape like inverted pitchforks. No sounds. No soil. No wind. No Candyland.

_We HAVE to be close, dammit! _Sam flies high overhead and scans the horizon. He sees a dell up ahead, and in its center are what appear to be little cottages lined in two rows. "Over there, I see it!" he calls to the Impala. She looks up, and he points. They all take off for the dell and soon come upon a very old sign welcoming them to Candyland.

Unfortunately, the village is as dead as the surrounding land. The quaint cottages and little shops that line the main, cobbled street sit old and abandoned. Dean glances up, body trembling, and takes in the dilapidated town. Sam waits for a wisecrack. Instead, Dean just drops his forehead against the soft black scales, the epitome of disappointment. The Impala croons at him, nudging his arm with her snout. Dean doesn't respond. She looks at Sam, the worry in her pale yellow eyes reflecting his own. His sympathy outweighs his lingering fear, and before he knows it, he's flying in close to pat her. She licks him and nudges his little fairy body in return.

"Come on," Sam encourages her, "take Dean into town. There HAS to be something to eat around here somewhere."

The dragon moves forward, both her and Sam on full alert should anything pop out of the silence and threaten them. The moment her front claws touch the cobbled street, the entire town lights up in bright colors. The effect is just like when Dorothy first sees Oz: black and white and dull all over turns to a Technicolor dream, radiating from the very spot the Impala stands. Then the color gives birth to candy. The cobblestones become red and black licorice nubs. The walls of the shop next to them turn into white chocolate, and a door of fudge complete with hard-candy lintel soon follow. The fountain in the small village square becomes marzipan marble, and M&Ms soon shoot from its spout and fill the basin below. Dean dismounts the moment the transformation is complete, but it's Sam who flies into town first.

"See? Told you we'd find food!" he exclaims, wings fluttering like mad.

"Sam—"

"And yeah, find, so it's candy, that isn't really food, but STILL, now you can eat!"

"I'm not eating this, ya doof!"

Sam is taken aback. "What do you mean? Dean, you HAVE to eat."

"I know," Dean grunts, both arms clenched over his stomach. "Believe me, I know. But come on, Sam, aren't you getting a Hansely-Gretly vibe from this place?" Sam shrugs, though his little face has clouded a little, showing Dean that he's at least thinking about what he's hearing. "Picture how we came in here, man. There was nothing around ANYwhere. Then we come upon this little town, which just magically comes to life and just happens to be made of candy?" Dean shakes his head and dismisses the place. "This has curse written all over it, and you know it."

"But you still have to eat—"

"I KNOW!" Dean roars. The fairy wilts at the loud noise, and Dean drops his head. "Sorry." Then he smirks.

"What?" Sam asks, still trembling a little from Dean's literal roar.

"S'funny, y'know? You wanting me to eat, and me actually turning down food…" He turns his grin up to his brother. "This place really is crazy."

Then his eyes roll back as the barbarian drops deadweight.

"Dean!" Sam flies down, and the Impala steps forward and nudges Dean with her snout, chirruping with worry. Sam's little hands slap at Dean's big face, trying to get him to come around. Dean gives a weak groan, but otherwise doesn't move. Sam flies away toward the nearby fountain that is spewing M&Ms. The Impala looks at him and tilts her huge dragon head, wondering what he's up to.

"Dean has to eat," Sam tells her as he grabs one of the candies. "And there's only one way to find out if he can eat this stuff or not." The Impala whimpers, but Sam bites into the candy anyway. He doesn't feel a thing—and this is just about the best M&M he's ever had (even if it does say J&J instead of M&M). He finishes the candy off in a few more bites and licks his fingers. Then he has a look at himself to see if he sprouted any donkey ears or the like, but finds himself normal. Well, fairy-self normal. "I'm okay!" he announces, elated, and he flies back down to Dean, landing right between his eyes. "Dean, wake up! You can eat!"

"…mwwhugh?" his brother murmurs.

"The candy! Dean, I tried it, and it's great! And look," he holds his arms out as Dean's eyes flicker open, "I'm fine!"

"You what?!" Dean sits straight up and catches Sam when he falls. He holds the fairy up in front of his glaring-with-concern eyes. "Why'd you take such a stupid risk, Sammy?!"

"Oh yeah, like you've never taken stupid risks for me."

"That's not the same!"

"Yes it is!"

"I don't want to fight about this!"

"Me neither!"

"But we're still yelling!"

"You started it!"

_RRROOOOOOAAARRR!_

Both boys freeze at the Angry in the distance. "That can't be good," Dean remarks. He reaches for his sword on pure instinct and the blade glows and fills him with energy, more than ready to fight. Sam flies over to the building next to them, grabs a candy cane icicle, and cracks the stem over his knee. He flies back with his little candy cane shiv in hand. Dean just looks at him. Sam frowns.

"What? I'll poke its eye out or something."

"Yeah, have fun with that."

They hear giant footsteps coming from somewhere in front of them. All the candy structures shake. The tree next to them sheds gumdrops and its peppermint bark crumbles with each tremor. A big blue form, 15-feet tall, emerges from behind a wall of truffles: an ogre, but nothing like Shrek.

"He looks like one of the ogres from the old Gummi Bears cartoon!" Sam exclaims.

"Yeah?"

"Don't play dumb, Dean—we LOVED that cartoon. You watched it with me all the time."

"Only cos I wanted to go on those wooden roller coasters they used to get around." Dean gets into his fighting stance. "Lucky bouncy bastards."

The ogre spots them and roars again, but this time they make out two words: "fairy" and "crush." Sam gulps, and his peppermint stake crumbles in his grip. Dean looks up at him.

"Sucks to be you."

The ogre plods into a loping run, charging at them, and the brothers split up so they can attack from the sides. The ogre follows Sam, pushing over anything that gets in its path. Sam flies through an open window of a house made of cake. He looks for a place to hide, but the house is empty—no furniture, not kitchen, and worst of all, NO other open window. The ogre punches through the cakey wall with ease and descends upon him.

_Anytime, Dean! _Sam thinks, fluttering backward.

"Fairy," the beast snarls. "Crush."

Then it chokes as the red glowing tip of a sword emerges from its throat. "Not today, Toady," Dean snarls right back, twisting the sword as he speaks. The ogre falls down in a heap, exposing Dean and the ogre-shaped hole in the cake wall behind him.

"Dude, you called him Toady," Sam grins, shaking his head. Dean grins too.

"Couldn't resist. You okay?"

The ogre gets to its knees and roars at them both. It grabs Dean's sword out of his hand and chucks it through a different cake wall and out of sight. Then it stands up and roars in Dean's face.

"Ugh. Someone needs a mint." The ogre moves to grab him, but Dean takes a swing first. The ogre goes flying through the same cake wall as the sword. Dean gawps at his big fist. "Guess I'm kinda strong here," he marvels.

"More than kinda," Sam says. "Look!" Dean walks over and sees that his one punch sent the ogre through the walls of the next house over, through their rock-candy gates, and then through the walls of the next house after that. Now both sets of wide eyes return to Dean's fist, and Dean shakes his head.

"Holy…"

"SHIT!" Sam points, but it's too late: the ogre barrels in and slams into Dean with the force of a wrecking ball. The barbarian crashes through his own series of buildings, broad back breaking brittle candy structures, until he lands in a pond full of yellow liquid.

_This better be Mountain Dew, _Dean thinks/hopes/prays…then sniffs. It's lemonade. _Also good._

He grabs onto the rocky-road shore and pulls himself out. _It's gotta have a weakness. What do you know about ogres? _He licks the chocolate and marshmallow goodness off his fingers. _Did dad ever hunt any ogres? _Dean freezes with his thumb in his mouth, realizing what he's just stupidly done. "Oh crap."

A pain hits his stomach, and Dean drops to his knees as ten knives stab him in the back—from the inside. He cries out in agony as his fingers warp and his face ripples and twists.

"Dean!" Sam hears his brother's wails across the little village, and he turns around to fly in that direction, but the ogre keeps him fleeing. The Dean-toss had brought the cake house down, and Sam escaped during the collapse. But the ogre soon followed and Sam has been flying for his life ever since, little heart clamoring away. He hears Dean cry out again, though his voice sounds lower this time. The ogre swats at Sam, and the fairy is flooded with irritation. "Leave me alone, I have to get to DEAN!" Without warning, the ogre flies back, hit by an invisible fist. Sam looks at his own hands now. _How'd I do that?_

_Magic, duh, _his inner voice replies. The ogre recovers and charges again, and Sam concentrates to throw the creature even further this time. Instead, the ogre lifts of the ground, turns pink, and drops again. The ogre looks at his makeover and growls out a "Huh?!"

_What is it with me and pink in this reality? _Sam frowns. The ogre, now REALLY pissed off, attacks again, so Sam tries again. Vines sprout out all around the beast and tie it up, but it breaks through. Then it kicks off the anchor that drops out of nowhere and wraps around its feet, and then it rips off the "Give Peace a Chance" bumper sticker that covers its eyes.

"Dammit, why can't I just throw him again?" Sam wonders aloud. The ogre grabs the fairy at last and squeezes the little body in its fist.

"Your fault," it growls at Sam. "Crush fairy!"

"NO!" a different growl, er, growls. Sam and the ogre see a second ogre coming at them, this one even bigger than the first, green skinned and back covered in sharp, curled spikes. The pink ogre roars, releasing Sam, and charges the green one. The two beasts wrestle through the candy lanes, and Sam takes advantage of the distraction to find Dean. He flies off in the direction his brother was thrown and eventually comes upon the yellow pond.

"That better be Mountain Dew…" Sam spies Dean's leather pouch on the shore. "Dean?" He flutters over the yellow waters and peers down, but he doesn't see a body floating in there, thank God. Sam looks around and spies Dean's boots and fur underoos next to a bush. He rolls his eyes and murmurs, "Dean, this is no time for a streak through Candyland."

He's answered with a roar. Whirling around, he finds the green ogre. They just look at each other for a few long seconds. "Well?" Sam says at length. "Aren't you gonna try and eat me?"

The ogre roars—then clamps its clawed fingers over its mouth, an alarmed expression on its face, like it just said something it didn't mean to. Now Sam is confused. The ogre squints its eyes and opens its mouth to speak again.

"S-S-Ssssssss…" It growls, sounding frustrated, and bangs the sides of its head with its fists.

A different roar sounds out, and a second later, Sam gets grabbed by the still-pink ogre. It opens its mouth and lifts the fairy up to its gaping jaws, but the green ogre jumps forward and knocks Sam free. They howl at each other, the pink ogre pointing at Sam with anger, and the green one standing in front of him. Protecting him…?

_Wait…_ Sam flies in front of the green ogre's face and looks it in the eyes. Moss green pupils peer back. The pink ogre yells again behind them, but the green ogre frowns back at it.

"Nn…no….eat…broth-ther…" the green grunts with great effort. Sam's eyes blow wide.

"Dean?"

The green nods. "S…sssss…my."

"What happened to you?!"

"Can…dy…"

"Candy. You ate the candy?"

"C…curssse."

The pink ogre roars again, pointing at the fairy as it speaks Ogre-ish. Dean snarls something back.

"You understand it?" Sam asks. Dean nods.

"Eat…break…..w-wants-s…" Dean pounds his head again in frustration.

"Hey, hey, stop it," Sam soothes. "Take your time, man."

Dean nods and calms down. He puffs out some deep breaths and tries again. "M-mad…fairies….make candy curse."

Sam droops. "Fairies cursed this place?" The pink growls out a yes as the green nods sadly. Sam flies closer to Dean, just in case the pink tries anything. "That's why he's so pissed, huh?"

Dean shakes his head. "Huh…hungry."

Sam looks at the pink ogre. It looks sad now. "Hungry for what?" Sam asks.

The ogre growls low at Dean. "R-rrr…" Dean snarls at himself and tries again. "Bar…que…r-ribs."

"Barbeque ribs?!" Sam repeats. Both ogres nod, and Sam can't help but chuckle with incredulity. "Sorry, but you're S.O.L. if you think there are any barbeque pits around here.

The ogres both look at him with 'duh' written all over their monstrous faces. "S…smy…make food," Dean tells him.

"Dean, we've been over this. I can't."

"Smy…TRY," Dean barks with a stamp of his big foot.

Sam takes a deep breath and flaps his wings. A poof of sparkles appears and leaves a slinky at the ogre's feet. Sam sighs, flustered. "See? TOLD you—"

"Try 'gain," Dean says, more kindly this time.

"But Dean—"

"It…okay!" Dean gives him an ogre-y smile. "Take…time."

So Sam shuts his eyes and concentrates. "No…think," he hears Dean coax. "Just…just do." Sam stops concentrating and just flaps his wings this time, letting the magic flow freely. The smell of barbecue sauce hits his nose, and he opens his eyes to a rotating spit of the biggest rack of barbecue ribs he's ever seen. The pink ogre roars again, this time with joy, and digs in.

"I did it!" Sam breathes in awe. Dean nods.

"Knew…y-you…do it."

Sam looks at him, happiness fading as he beholds his brother's green face. "So how do we fix you?"

Dean doesn't get to answer, as right at that moment a big black dragon appears, screeches, and takes a snap at him.

* * *

**A/N additional: **So I already know how the next chapter will go, but I still need prompts for where to take them after that. Please let me know if you have ideas or really want to see something specific happen! You have the power!


	4. Chapter the Fourth

**World of Winchester-Craft** (continued)

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

**A/N:** Sorry for such a delay in updating, everyone—stoopid real life got in the way again. But after that emotional and man pain-filled finale, I figured we could all use some crack. So enjoy! Oh and just to warn you—there is a pretty crude joke and image in this chapter, but I couldn't resist, hehe…

* * *

**Chapter Four: Chapter the Fourth**

Dean the Ogre jumps out of the way just as the Impala dragon's jaws would have snapped his body in half. The dragon roars in outrage and charges at her prey. The ogre recovers and runs off, and the dragon screeches as she gives chase. Sam flies after her.

"No, don't hurt him!" He flutters up next to her ears, but she ignores him, yellow eyes fixed on the monster retreating down Licorice Lane. That's when Sam sees something dangling from her front tooth: Dean's amulet. _She thinks the ogre killed Dean! _Sam realizes. He flies on again, olive wings beating the air like fists, and catches up just as she rounds a corner onto the main street, but he gets smacked by her tail and lands in a birdbath filled with sweet cappuccino froth. She chirps at him in apology, but then focuses her eyes back on the ogre. Sam tries to get up, but the froth is thick and sticky and everywhere. He's trapped. Up the street, he sees Dean by the candy fountain, hands out in front of him as he struggles to speak.

"B…baaa…bab…y!"

The Impala growls at him and takes one stomping step forward, smoke blasting out of her nostrils. The ogre stays where he is, still fumbling his words as the Impala comes closer and closer. Sam struggles to free himself, but the frothy coating on his wings weighs him down. All he can do is watch as the huge green ogre cowers before the enormous black dragon. She opens her mouth, sweeps her head low, strikes—

—but doesn't bite down. Instead, she tilts her head just so, resembling a really big kitty as she listens. Sam wonders what's going on when suddenly, he hears it too: someone humming a tune. The voice is so low and gruff that Sam knows it can only be from one source, and he looks at the ogre with the same head tilt as the Impala. The tune is somewhat familiar…Sam knows he's heard it before. _So why are you humming a song, Dean? _Sam wonders. His eyes drift to the Impala. _And why is she listening?_

The dragon tips her snout right into the ogre's face and takes a sniff. In an instant, the malice is gone from her eyes, and she's licking the creature head to toe and chirping happily. The ogre wraps his big green arms around her face and nuzzles her right back. Sam's little fairy heart starts beating again, and he relaxes. Then he frowns when he feels cappuccino froth creeping into his underwear.

"Here, let me give you a hand," a stranger's voice offers. Sam looks up and finds a man smiling down at him. The clothes are strange—tattered pants and a long but equally tattered white jacket, similar to a chef's uniform—but Sam knows that mustache anywhere.

"Rufus?"

The man gives a little frown of confusion. "No…I'm Matthew. Why did you call me Rufus?"

"Sorry, you look like someone I know."

"Oh." Rufus—er, Matthew—smiles warmly. "Well let's get you out of that sticky mess." He produces a watering can and gently pours water on top of Sam, clearing him of the foam. The ogre and dragon walk back to them, and when Dean sees the hunter's look-a-like, he's just as visibly confuzzled as Sam was.

"It's not him, Dean," Sam tells him. "Already checked." The man hands Sam a dishtowel to use to dry off, and Sam accepts it with gratitude. "I'm Sam, and this is my brother Dean." The Impala grunts out the dragon version of an 'ahem-hem.' "And this is the Impala," Sam quickly amends. The dragon chirps and nods and then fixes her gaze on their new acquaintance.

"I'm Matthew," he says to the newcomers. Then he gestures to the building behind Sam. "This used to be my home and pastry shop." He looks at Dean and adds, "And I used to be a pink ogre." Sam and Dean look at each other with surprise and Matthew smiles warmly. "Thank you for breaking my curse. I've been an ogre for nearly 150 years." His smile wanes as he beholds his town. "I'm the last survivor."

Sam flutters his wings to rid them of the last water drops, and he holds the dishtowel high so that Matthew knows to take it back. "What happened here?"

Matthew frowns. "You're a fairy. Surely you've heard of the Candyland Curse…"

"I'm not really a fairy," Sam informs him. "And my brother here isn't really a barbarian. We're human."

"Travelers," Matthew nods with understanding. "That explains it." He looks up at the ogre and begins his tale. "This place wasn't always like this. Candyland used to be a thriving town in the heart of Fantasia. People would come from every realm in the land to feast on our handmade candies and cakes. Everyone was welcome. We baked and made treats because it made us happy to make others happy—to give them a tasty retreat from their hardships." He heaves a sigh. "But then the fairies came, and everything changed."

Sam lands on Dean's green shoulder. "What happened?"

"Well, fairies like sweets. I mean, REALLY like them. And they were welcomed here just as warmly as everyone else. But they kept coming in greater and great numbers until we were overwhelmed with their constant demands for more. We couldn't keep up with their appetites! They were like sparkly locusts, consuming everything in and out of our shops. Other creatures stopped coming, since the fairies would have everything eaten before they arrived. They ate and ate and ate until one day, there was absolutely nothing left. No flour, no sugar, not even a single sprinkle. The fairies were furious and demanded more, but we showed them our empty pantries to prove that there was nothing we could do. The fairies warned us that they'd punish us if we didn't do as we were told, but we were fed up with their selfishness and we took a stand. 'Make it yourselves,' we told them." Matthew looks down. "So they did. They placed a curse on the whole town, turning everything into sweet stuff. That way the candy would never run out. But if any other creature tried to eat what they feel is rightfully theirs, they got turned into an ogre."

"That's why the candy didn't affect me," Sam realizes. He looks at Dean and crumbles at the sad look in those big green eyes, and he's forced to turn away. "So you ate the candy, just like Dean did, and that's how you became an ogre?"

"We ALL ate the candy sooner or later," Matthew groans. "The fairies killed all the crops and prairie in the area so that we'd either have to eat the candy or starve to death. Most of us held out as long as we could, but we all gave in eventually." He shakes his head. "Little did we know that the curse didn't end with becoming an ogre." He looks at Sam as he pats his belly. "The hunger got worse. It became a great, gnawing beast inside of us all, more monstrous than our new ogre bodies. Untamable, insatiable…" Matthew turns away. "Eventually everyone went insane with hunger, and…turned on each other."

Dean growls in disgust, and Sam throws Matthew his own horrified look as he cries, "You ate each other?"

"Most of them did, yes." He looks back at them. "But a handful of us were able to hold on and remember our humanity. We fought against our new nature and ate only the candy until we grew to hate what we once loved to make. Our small group began to dwindle as ogres let themselves starve to death instead of eating another piece of candy." His eyes gaze over the empty square. "My friend Jason died two years ago, leaving me alone."

"So if you didn't want to eat us, then why'd you attack us?" Sam asks.

"I was trying to scare you away! It's what we've done for centuries: whenever a stranger wandered into our ghost town and the curse was reactivated, we'd roar and run at them so they'd escape before they ate something. But then I saw that you were a fairy and my, shall we say, not-so-human side took over. I was overcome with rage for all of my fallen friends and family. If not for your brother here," Matthew glances up at Dean and gives him a thankful smile, "I believe I would have killed you, Sam. I'm forever grateful that Dean stopped me."

"That makes two of us," Sam says in truth. Dean's green ogre lips give a smirk in reply. "So how do we get Dean back to normal?" Sam asks.

"The same way you cured me," Matthew answered. "We have to feed him real food. But first we—"

Matthew doesn't get to finish his sentence: Sam beats his wings and a bacon cheeseburger appears in Dean's big hand. The ogre smiles and eats the sandwich in one big gulp, licking his clawed fingers with joy. They look at each other and wait for the change, but nothing happens. "Maybe you need more than one?" Sam wonders aloud. He promptly poofs up another, and Dean eats it right up, too. Still nothing happens.

"If I may, Sam, before you waste more food and time…" Matthew waits for Sam to look back at him before he goes on. "You can't feed Dean just ANY food. It has to be what he truly hungers. For me, it was barbecue ribs. One of you travelers introduced me to them back in Candyland's hey day, and all my years as an ogre, I pretended I was eating them instead of candy. Great Marmalade, they were wonderful!" He licks his lips in happy memory.

"So we just have to figure out what Dean wants." Sam smiles as he faces his brother. "And I think I know just the thing." A big apple pie materializes out of the air. Dean roars in delight and eats the flakey goodness right up. He still doesn't change. Sam tries different pies—cherry, peach, strawberry rhubarb, key lime, you name it. Dean devours them all happily but remains an ogre through and through. After Sam magics up a cheesecake, the little fairy falls on his back, utterly exhausted. The ogre swallows the cheesecake whole as he rushes over to his brother.

"Smmy…okay?" Dean asks as he gently scoops the limp fairy into his hands.

"Yeah…" Sam murmurs. "Tired. Must be from all the magic." His small eyes look into Dean's big ones. "If you don't want pie, what DO you want?"

Dean's eyes soften. "You…okay."

"I just told you I was, Dean."

The ogre shakes his head, grunting with annoyance. "No…want…youkay."

"I think he's saying that what he wants is for you to be all right," Matthew provides. Sam shakes his head at his brother and flies up to face him.

"Will you please think about yourself just once? I can't cure you until you let me know what YOU want. And it has to be something to eat, not something about me or Matthew or anybody else. So what is it?" Now Dean shakes his head at Sam, seeming to be at a loss for an answer. Sam sighs. "Guess I'll just keep trying then…" His wings beat hard for a moment, but Sam cries out in pain and drops into Dean's waiting hand. "M'fine," Sam reassures him. "I'm just sore. My wings feel sprained."

"Well why don't you make it easier on yourself?" Matthew suggests. "Make yourself a tool that can feed Dean on its own. Then you can get your rest while Dean, hopefully, will reap the results."

"Like a magic plate?" No sooner are his words out than a sparkly purple plate appears at Dean's big ogre feet. Sam is breathing hard now, so Dean carefully lays him down on the sponge cake step next to him. He takes the plate and looks it over, not entirely sure how to make this thing work.

"Just…think of…what you want…" Sam pants. "And it'll…appear. I think."

So Dean concentrates, and half a sandwich appears. It looks like it's just plain white bread—if anything is in between, it isn't enough to be seen. Sam is very confused, but Dean looks sentimental—even for an ogre. He takes the little sammitch, smiles at it, and eats it whole. A second later, there's a flash of light, and Dean is standing as himself again. Well, his barbarian self, anyway. And he's naked. Huge and naked. Matthew turns away at once out of courtesy and awkwardness, but Sam sits up straight.

"Oh shit, something went wrong," he moans. "Now you've got three legs!"

Dean smirks and scratches the back of his neck. "Uh, Sammy…that's not my leg."

Sam's jaw drops, and his arms come up like something just hit him. Dean winks and turns back to his dragon, whom already has the amulet lowered and waiting for him. "Thanks sweetheart. My clothes still where I left them?" She nods, and Dean excuses himself and jogs off. When he comes back, sporting his furry Action Wear and boots, he finds Sam still frozen in squick, arms still up and jaw still dropped and now probably locked. Dean kneels down in front of the step and its petrified occupant. "Sam? You in there?" Sam doesn't respond at all, so Dean gently taps at one of his shoulders. All of Sam rocks as one, like he's turned into a little, freaked-out statue of himself.

"Is he going to be all right?" Matthew asks. Dean rolls his eyes.

"He'll be fine." Dean smirks as he carefully picks the little fairy figurine up. "He knows he's not supposed to look directly at the sun." He rests Sam in his leather pouch and then smiles down at Matthew. "Thanks for your help." He shakes the man's hand (and makes all of Matthew shake at the strong motion).

"My pleasure. Least I could do to repay you for curing me."

Dean nods and has another look at the town, its sugary structures still gleaming in the sunlight. "We can't let anyone else get trapped by this curse. Come on." He motions for Matthew to follow.

"What are you doing?"

"Destroying the town." Dean looks at Matthew. "You're okay with that, right?"

"Of course. I never want to see this place again." He looks around as they walk past the edge of town. "There is no happiness in our fair village anymore. Only evil."

Dean whistles for the dragon. "Baby, get your furnace ready." The Impala walks up next to him and looks down at his face. "Burn it," Dean tells her. "Burn the whole town. I want every last piece of cursed candy gone."

The dragon nods her massive head and stands tall as the men move off to the side to give her all the room she needs. Taking a deep breath, the Impala opens her mouth…and makes a loud, hissy noise. Matthew and Dean look at each other. The Impala resettles herself and tries again. This time a great cloud of smoke pours out of her throat, but still, no fire.

"Is your dragon broken?" Matthew asks. Dean glares at him.

"NO, she's fine. She's just never done this before." He runs over to his living car and soothes his hand along her jaw. She hangs her head low, ashamed. "Hey, it's all right. We're all getting used to our new forms here. And baby, you're the one that changed the most." She makes a very sad sound deep in her throat, so Dean lifts the tip of her snout up so she's looking right at him. "But you're still YOU in there. You've never, ever let me down my whole life. That's how I know you can do this. You just have to keep trying. All right?" She nods, and he gives her a little kiss. "That's my girl."

Dean moves to the side again but stays close this time, one hand on her long neck to show his support. The dragon takes a really deep breath, opens wide, and a weak flame shoots out. She chirps happily at Dean, almost sounding like she's saying, "I did it, I did it!"

Dean laughs and rubs his hand over her soft scales. "I know you did, keep going!"

She breathes fire again, and the flame grows stronger and shoots out longer. In seconds it's a huge blowtorch, shooting a stream of fire into the streets. The candy houses melt and the pastry shops sag as the heat spreads from building to building. Soon the smell of burnt sugar hits their noses, and Dean and Matthew start breathing through their mouths, but the taste of destruction on the wind soon pelts their taste buds. Once every last tree and treat are ashes, Dean pats the Impala to get her to stop. She pants hard, black silken tongue hanging limp, but there is unmistakable pride in her yellow eyes. All of a sudden, she coughs hard, and something small falls out of her mouth and onto the ground.

_What is that, a tooth? _Dean picks it up and holds it in his palm. It's definitely not a tooth. It looks like a rock of pure, molten lava, only solid and not at all hot to the touch. The fire inside it burns red and bright, and as Dean turns it around in the light, the lava seemingly trapped within turns with him. He holds it up to the Impala. "You okay baby? You need this, or…?"

She licks him and pays no attention to the stone, so Dean shrugs. _Better keep it just in case…_ he decides, and he puts the stone in his leather pouch. Then he looks back at Matthew. "So! Know anyplace near by where we could get some food, beer, and sleep, in that order?"

* * *

Dean is resting as comfortably as he can on a too-small bed when Sam finally awakes with a start.

"FINally," Dean says, rolling his legs over so he's sitting on the side of the bed. Sam is on a big, square pillow on the floor, and Dean looks down at him. "You've been out all day!" Sam's jaw settles back down, but his saucer eyes still gaze at nothing, so Dean gets down on the floor and rests on his knees so he can look into the little fairy's face. "Come on, Sam," Dean grins, unable to keep the snark in any longer. "I can't help it if the view down there is awe-inspiring. And hey, now you'll know what to shoot for on that magical day when you finally become a man!"

"It's…huge," Sam whispers.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know. Always has been."

"No, it's HUGE."

"Well my entire body is a little bigger here—"

"No, Dean, you don't get it!" Sam flies up to Dean's face and pulls on his cheeks as if he's pulling on a jacket collar. "It's HUGE! It's WRONG!" Sam pushes right up to Dean's eyes. "It's bigger than ME!"

"So is everything else these days, Sammy..."

"Dean! It's an ABOMINATION OF NATURE!"

Dean frowns and waves him off. "Dude, enough with the insults. What did not-so-Little Dean ever do to you?"

Sam just flutters away, shuddering and rubbing his hands over his arms. He can't get the image out of his head, and dammit, that was something no little brother, especially Dean Winchester's little brother, should EVER have to see.

"Whatever," Dean says as he stands up. "I'll be right back."

Sam spins around as Dean heads for the door. "Where are you going?"

"Out back. The, uh, Abomination of Nature is calling." He grins and walks out. A few seconds later, Sam hears him pissing outside, and the stupid image is back in his mind AGAIN.

_God I need a drink…_ Sam looks around and finds himself in a quaint cottage. Thatched roof, Tudor walls, wooden everything, including, Sam notes with humor, the TV. He flies down to face it and finds the same wooden-slash-magic technology as on his cell phone. "So they have TVs here but no indoor plumbing," he thinks aloud.

"No kidding." Dean walks back into the room and crouches down next to Sam. "It isn't all bad though—they have a shower back there made out of weird, hollow plants. Soaps and shampoo, too. Just no crapper. Go figure."

"Where are we, anyway?"

"Rufus—I mean, Matthew got us a place to stay the night. He paid a dwarf in this little village we passed through just after lunch. Cranky dwarf, though—I asked him if he knew Gimli, and he nearly chopped my hand off. Some people's dwarves, huh?" Dean stands back up. "Anyway, Matthew said he was headed for some other town to start up a new shop." Dean shakes his head. "Rufus as a pastry chef…I don't know, man, I think that may be even crazier than you being a fairy." All at once, Dean's I'm Five Again! smile appears, and he heads over to the window. "Hey, wanna see something funny?"

"Uh…no?" Sam knows he'll get ignored, and sure enough, Dean arrives at the window like Sam never said a word. The world is pitch black outside the glass; Sam wonders exactly what time of night it is.

"Watch this." Dean starts humming the same tune as earlier, when he was trying to get through to the Impala. In the blink of an eye—literally—the pitch black world parts in the middle, and a gigantic, yellow iris looks back in at them. Sam shrieks and flies backward into the wall as Dean belly laughs.

"Isn't that awesome? Just like _Jurassic Park!_" Dean pats on the wall next to the window. "Thanks, baby! Go back to sleep now." She chrirrups back, and her great eye shuts. Dean turns back to Sam, who is still glued to the wall. Dean peels him off and gently sets Sam down on the bed. "We really gotta work on your sense of humor."

"And you really gotta work on your singing."

"I wasn't singing, I was humming!"

"Yeah, and it was still off-key!"

"Meh, my Baby doesn't care. It's our song, and she loves it as much as she loves me and I love her."

Sam can practically hear the little smiley face at the end of that sentence. "You and your car…have a song."

"Yup! 'Pride and Joy,' SRV. Great song for a great pair." Dean grins through Sam's rolling eyes and 'give me a break' face. He blows a kiss to the window to annoy his little brother further (even though the kiss itself is genuine, of course), and then he reaches into his leather pouch and pulls out the sparkly purple plate. "Hungry?"

"Starving." Sam flies over as Dean thinks them up some pizza. Two big slices appear, and Sam darts down and claims his before Dean swipes them both for himself. Then a bottle of beer appears, and Dean pours a little into the cap and hands that to Sam. They drink without a toast, and then they dig in. Their happy munching is the only sound for a few minutes, Sam working his way through his single slice, while Dean thinks up more and more until his huge tummy is satisfied. Then he rests against the back of the bed, and it groans from his weight.

"That plate was a great idea, Sammy," Dean smiles. "Thank you."

"Well now you don't have to worry about going hungry again." Sam smiles when Dean shakes his head no, like a very pleased little boy. "Actually, I've been thinking about why you're so hungry all the time here. I think your metabolism grew with you." Sam licks pizza sauce off his fingers. "You know, bigger body, bigger demands."

Dean muses on this. "Makes sense." He sits back up and claps his hands on his thighs. "Need a lot of fuel to keep me moving. And thanks to you," he pats the plate, "I'll be just fine." Dean puts the plate back in his pouch.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam looks up as his brother looks down at him. "I wanted to ask you before—well, before, when you got changed back…and dude, why the hell did you strip anyway?"

"When I started changing into an ogre, I took my clothes off before I wrecked 'em," Dean shrugs. "I don't think I'll find any Big and Tall clothing stores around here, y'know?"

"Well I could've made you some clothes! Here…" Sam beats his wings, and a pair of trousers appears next to Dean on the bed: tight, sparkly silver trousers. A puffy white shirt, complete with bejeweled collar, appears seconds after that. Before Dean can say a WORD, Sam tries again. The shirt turns into a tee depicting cartoon, baby pandas having a tea party, and the pants become jeans with embroidered flowers on the ass. Sam grumbles under his breath and tries a third time. When a perfect pink tutu, shimmery tights, and a crystal tiara appear, Dean's had enough.

"Yeah, I'll stick with the furry underoos, thanks." He gives Sam a pat on the back, sending the fairy sprawling face first into frilly pink. The clothes disappear as Sam swears under his breath. "So what was your question?" Dean asks before Sam can make another outfit from Barbie's closet appear.

Sam flexes his wings as he stands up and turns around. "What was so special about that sandwich you ate?" Dean looks confused. "You know," Sam continues, "the one that turned you back into you."

Dean's eyes soften with sentimentality, just as they'd done when he was an ogre, and he ducks his chin down, almost embarrassed. "You don't remember, do you?" Now Sam's the confused one, and Dean gives a little smile as he thinks back. "I was…nine? I think? And you were five. Dad was out on a hunt and I got the flu pretty bad—high fever, puking, the works. And you were so worried about me, even though I TOLD you I'd be fine. I even had some NyQuil I stole from the gas station. But you insisted on being pretty much glued to my side the whole week." Dean's smile widens as he remembers that determined little face. "You got me cold washcloths for my fever, you played toys with me, you read me stories—well, you TOLD me stories based on the pictures in the books, and I liked your stories a lot better. And one day, when I was so weak I couldn't get out of bed, you brought me a sandwich. It was only half a one, cuz it was the last of the bread, and all that was on it was sugar and butter. You told me it was a magic sandwich and it would make me all better, and you sat there until I ate every last bite. It was good—I mean, come on, a sugar sandwich? Awesome for a kid."

"Apparently it's still awesome for kids over thirty," Sam jokes. Dean looks at him and the two share a smile. "So why did the sandwich work when all your other favorite foods didn't?"

"I don't know…you were trying so hard to help, and you looked so frustrated and worried…" Dean gives a slow shrug. "I guess it just took me back to that memory. I felt like you cared about me again."

Sam's smile drops into disbelief at those words. Dean still looks nostalgic. _Either he doesn't realize what he just said, or he's being brutally honest. _Sam gulps as Dean blinks into realization._ Or both._

"Dean…"

"Let's see what's on TV," Dean interrupts, and his huge body stands up and moves past Sam and the bed. He switches the set on, and a prize fight between a unicorn and a narwhal comes into view. A crowd of every kind of creature imaginable surrounds the ring, and when the sexy nymph walks by with her "Round Two" placard, Dean is grinning ear to ear. Sam knows he's lost his brother's attention for at least the next few hours, so he flutters away and settles on the big square pillow that is still resting on the floor.

_I felt like you cared about me again, _Dean repeats in Sam's memory. It hurts just as bad as the first time. He stares at that super wide, super muscular back, hunched forward over the comically small TV set. Sam doesn't laugh. In fact, right now it's taking everything in him not to cry.

_I never STOPPED caring, Dean!_ he wants to shout. _How can you possibly think I ever could? _But the truth hits back. Hard. All those nights he snuck out with Ruby. All the times he let him down over the past year—argued with him, called him weak and pathetic. Strangling him until he nearly died! All so Sam could SHOW him that he was right and Dean was wrong, when Sam had it wrong the whole time. The guilt plows through him right after, destroying any tiny amount of remaining self-righteousness with it. _Of course he thinks that I stopped caring, _Sam realizes now. _The real question is, why were YOU so surprised to hear it?_

"You all right, Sammy?"

Sam looks up and finds Dean peering at him with concern. It makes Sam feel even worse. DEAN never stopped caring. Dean never stopped TRYING.

"Sam?"

The fairy fakes a yawn. "Yeah, I'm…just tired, y'know? It's been a long day."

"Get some sleep then," Dean tells him, already turning the volume down. "Tomorrow's probably gonna be just as much fun as today was." He turns back to the fight, and Sam settles down on his side. His wings drape over him as Sam sinks into the extra-soft pillow.

Neither offer him any comfort.

* * *

**A/N Additional:** Aww, boys :( Okay, the unicorn vs. narwhal thing was inspired by my unicorn vs. narwhal action figure set (yes, I really own one). I also included a LotR shout-out (with many more to come!) as requested by an anonymous reader, and in the next chapter we'll be dealing with sick!Sammy and caring!Dean, as requested by The Silent Wind and bohumut. Their prompts were answered—maybe yours will be next! Keep 'em coming!


	5. Sam's Gone and Caught a Sniffle

**World of Winchester-Craft **(continued)

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One.

**A/N: **And we're back :) Thank you all so much for reviewing! Your feedback simply makes my day :) This chapter is based on prompts from Ejdrup and bohumut, who both wanted to see big, barbarian Dean take care of little fairy Sam. In addition, The Silent Wind wanted to see a growing Dean for a moment as a nod to my Deanzilla series, so I've included that as well. Hope you all enjoy :) And as always, please keep those prompts coming!

* * *

**Chapter Five: Sam's Gone and Caught a Sniffle**

The blonde-haired mermaid tackles the blue-haired water nymph with the barely-there bikini. The nymph fights back, throwing her opponent into the ropes, but the mermaid lashes out with her tail and grabs the nymph in a fishy chokehold and holds her down for the count. One-two—OH, the nymph breaks free and whips the mermaid around by her tail, throwing her out of the ring! The bell tolls: end of Round Three. Someone calls for more mud, and a satyr scurries forward, bucket in hand. The mermaid crawls back into the ring, looking PISSED, as the nymph snarls and gestures at her to bring it.

It's pretty easy to say that as far as Dean is concerned, this is the Best Show EVER.

He's been watching TV for hours, hunched over the little set and enthralled by the most awesome wrestling he's ever seen. Sea Serpent vs. Flying Monkey. Minotaur vs. Cave Troll. Even Giantess vs. Goddess! THAT was his favorite…giant everythings everywhere. His furry underoos were a furry tent during that fight. But the current match is enjoyable too. Skimpy, mud-covered swimwear, two sexy women-things, and no-holds-barred wrestling? It's heaven. The bell rings again, signaling Round Four, and Dean grins ear to ear, hoping these ladies can go the distance.

Then a flash of light hits the corner of his right eye and distracts him. Hunter's instinct has him looking around at once—without _looking_ like he's looking, naturally—and he waits. A few seconds later, it comes again: a small, golden light from the floor. Sam's big pillow has been propped up on one side against the wall. Dean creeps over and gently lifts the pillow up.

He finds his fairy brother sitting in a half lotus—impressive for his long legs, even if they are fairy-sized now. Sam's eyes are shut and his face is calm. _He looks like a little Buddha, _Dean grins, and he's about to say as much when Sam holds his arms out in front of him, palms facing each other. A ball of golden light appears and grows. Sam keeps his eyes shut as he brings the ball into his chest, where it expands and covers him in a flash. The glow dissipates, and Sam slowly opens his eyes and looks down at himself. A frown forms at once.

"DAMMIT!" he whispers, and he looks at his palms and holds them wide. "WHY won't you work?"

"Uh, Sam?"

Sam starts at his brother's voice, and he looks up into Dean's partly amused, partly concerned face. "Dean…hi! I was just…um…"

"Inventing a new way to play Lite Brite?" Dean grins, and Sam scowls. "Dude. Kidding. You're practicing your magic, right?"

Sam rubs the back of his neck. "Not really practicing…I'm…well…" He looks up at Dean, who is rolling his hand in the "go on" gesture. "I'm trying to make myself human again, okay?"

"Wow," Dean says, sounding impressed. He sits down on the floor. "Why?"

Sam is flabbergasted. "Why? Seriously?" Sam flies up to Dean's face. "Because I'm SICK of being a friggin' fairy, that's why! It's humiliating being this small!" Dean opens his mouth. "Shut up," Sam snaps.

"I didn't say anything!"

"You don't have to. I know that look."

"What look?"

"The Countdown to Smartass Remark Look. You give it, and then it's three…two…one…smartass! So shut up. You don't know what this is like."

"No, I don't," Dean admits gently. "But is it really all that bad?"

Still hovering in front of Dean's face, Sam folds his arms. "An hour ago, I really had to pee. And there's no toilet in here, so I knew I had to go outside. But I couldn't open the window, and I couldn't move the door."

"You should've told me! I would've helped!"

"I YELLED for your help, Dean, but you were too busy drooling at the TV! So you know what I had to do? I had to CRAWL under the damn door. Then I found a nice plant to water, and a huge spider nearly ate me! So I had to stop mid-stream and run! And that HURT! So I flew up into the trees and peed in a hole in the bark. And then I turned and my feet got stuck in the stupid sap, and I tugged free, lost my balance, fell into a bird's nest, and got yelled at by three big, angry baby birds! And they could TALK, Dean! And they were mad I wasn't a worm! So THEN I—"

"All right, I get it!" Dean was biting the inside of his cheek during the tirade so he wouldn't laugh, and now that the temptation is over, he gives Sam his most sincere face of apology. "I'm sorry I didn't hear you," Dean says. Sam nods his thanks. "And I'm really sorry you had to go through all that. Least it's over now."

"I guess." Sam lands on the bed and, concentrating, poofs up a new pair of underwear. He sees Dean's puzzled face and murmurs, "One of the birds took my boxers as a trophy."

That does it: Dean breaks into hysterics, rolling onto his back as the laughter rocks the entire cottage. Sam glares at him and Dean waves that he's sorry and he's trying to stop, but he can't. The image of a baby bird ripping off his tiny brother's tiny underpants is just too damn hilarious.

"DEE-EEAN!" Sam whines, sounding just like a little boy being picked on.

"All right, all right…I'm stopping…" Dean chuckles a few more times and slowly sits up, brushing the tears from his eyes. "Hoo! Sorry." He clears his throat and puts on his serious face. "You were saying?"

"Doesn't matter," Sam grumps. "I just need to figure out how to make myself human again."

"What have you tried so far?"

Sam shakes his head. "Everything I can think of."

"Really? What about—"

"Dean, I just told you, I tried EVERYTHING I could think of. You really think you can come up with anything I haven't already tried?"

"Sheesh, touchy. You sure you made those underpants the right size?" Dean doesn't wait for an answer, just climbs into bed and kicks off his furry boots. To both of their great relief, his feet don't stink. "Good night, Oscar."

"Oscar?"

"That would be The Grouch, Mr. I Though of Everything and Don't Need Your Help, Stupid Brother."

Sam rolls his eyes. "I didn't mean it like that, Dean."

"Yeah? Then how did you mean it?"

"Now who's touchy?" Sam snits. "You don't know what I'm going through, and that's a fact. You can't possibly understand any of it, so why bother trying?"

Sam sees hurt flash behind those big green eyes—right before they roll in reply. Grumbling to himself, Dean turns over so that he faces the wall. "Dean…" Sam tries, but Dean doesn't say anything. Sam rubs his hand over his face. _What the hell just happened? _He doesn't know, and frankly, he's too tired and too cranky to really care right now. Flying back down to his pillow lean-to, Sam folds his legs back into the half lotus and shuts his eyes. _Just make yourself human,_ he tells himself and his magic. _Everything will be better once you're you again._

* * *

Dean wakes up sometime in the mid-morning-ish. Opening his eyes, he lets out a jaw-cracking wide yawn and swings his legs off the bed. Then he trudges over to the door, sleepy brain wondering why there is now a short wall to step over in order to go outside. His hand feels for the doorknob, but it isn't there. It's moved from the right to very low on the left. Dean grasps it and swings the door open, lets out another yawn, and looks out at the new day.

The new, upside down day.

"What the…?" Dean tries shutting the door and opening it again, but the scenery remains wrong. Then he looks back inside the cottage. Everything appears right-side up from his perspective: the bed and meager furnishings are all there with him on the floor. _No, ceiling,_ he realizes when he takes a closer look. The wooden floor is above him, and his bed is perched in the rafters.

"Uh, Sammy? What the hell is this?" Dean gets a groan for a reply, and his concern skyrockets. "Sam? Where are you?"

"Dean…" Sam's weak voice responds from somewhere in front of him. "Don't feel too good."

Dean ventures back inside, looking all around until he spots his brother on the ceiling. Floor. Whatever. Vertically opposite of Dean, okay? Sam's little fairy body is very pale and lying still in the middle of the big pillow.

"Great, how am I supposed to get to you?" Dean wonders. Then he remembers that he's taller than usual, so he reaches up and gently grasps for Sam. But Sam won't move—for some reason, he now weighs a ton, and Dean is in too awkward a position to try and summon up his barbarian strength. He tries for the pillow and finds it just as heavy and seemingly glued in place.

"Deeee…" Sam moans.

"I know, Sammy, I'm trying, but everything's against me right now!"

Sam blinks his eyes open. "What d'you…" He sees his brother upside down and looking up—down—at him. "What the hell?"

"That's what I said. Can you move?"

Sam tries, but nothing happens. Only his face seems unaffected. "No. Why can't I move, Dean?"

"I don't know—why am I on the ceiling?"

Sam's about to say something when his teeny tiny nose crinkles up, and he lets out an adorable little sneeze. "Choo!" Gravity shifts, and Dean and all the furniture drop to the floor. Dean braces his arms out so he doesn't squish his brother, and he lands hard on his elbows; his body smothers Sam instead of smooshing him. Dean's the one who is groaning now and he pushes himself away from fairy and floor.

"You all right?" Dean asks.

Sam nods. "Yeah. You?"

"I'll live." Dean leans in close to Sam, who shuts his eyes, and Dean gets a better look at his ailing brother. Sam looks…faded. His wings are a sickly pea soup color instead of their usual, vibrant green. His skin is dull and papery. Even his hair has paled from chocolate to a grayish tan. Dean swallows hard. "God, Sammy, you look…"

"Awful?"

"No…more like you're becoming a ghost. What happened to you?"

"Dunno," Sam admits. "I was up most the night trying to make myself human again. You can see how well that turned out," he says with a frown at his body. "I don't remember falling asleep, to be honest, but I woke up a few minutes ago feeling like crap warmed over. Then I heard you say my name." Sam cracks an eye open. "Think it's the flu?"

"This isn't like any flu I've ever seen," Dean says with concern. He rests the pad of his thumb over Sam's tiny forehead and pulls it back at once. "OW!" There's now a singe mark on his thumb. He shows it to Sam. "This isn't normal."

"Maybe it's fairy flu or something?" Sam suggests tiredly. Then his nose crinkles up again. "Choo!"

Dean feels weird, like he's being stretched. He looks at Sam and finds him rapidly dropping away, but the furniture stays in place this time. Then Dean's head hits the ceiling, and Dean realizes he's growing. "Um, Sam?"

"Even my sneezes sound different here," Sam gripes, not paying attention to his expanding brother.

"Bigger problems here, Sammy!"

Sam finally looks up at Dean and watches his brother's back grow until it spans the ceiling. "Oh that's just great!" Sam frowns. "Six hours of trying to get bigger, and I'm still the same size, and now there you go, growing with ease. That's so unfair!"

Dean is forced onto his knees, and the bed is pushed onto his lap. "Yeah, it's unfair, can you fucking fix me now?"

Sam grumbles but obliges, and with a weak batting of his wings and a poof of sparkles, Dean is back to being 8ish feet tall again. "Thanks," Dean breathes. Sam doesn't say anything, and when Dean looks upon him again, he finds the fairy even more pallid than before. "Aw shit." Dean kneels down as Sam's face scrunches up in apparent pain. "What, is it worse?"

Sam nods. "Yeah…hurts." His body starts to shake, so Dean rests his hand against his side to stabilize him. The fairy soon relaxes, but his head lolls around as his eyes struggle to remain focused.

"It has to be your magic," Dean concludes. He gets a murmured "hrm?" in reply. "Your magic," Dean repeats. "You used it to fix me and you got sicker. Maybe you overdid it last night?"

"How…can a fairy…get sick from using…its own magic?" Sam sputters.

"No idea, but look at the evidence. Remember yesterday, when you were poofing up all that food for me when I was still an ogre? You got so tired that you were out of breath. Maybe the magic is more physical than we realize." An idea hits Dean, and he gets to his feet. "Maybe you just need some more dust?" He goes to his leather pouch and brings back one of the sparkly vials. He pops the stopper out and gives Sam's wings a healthy sprinkling. "There, better?"

Sam's nose crinkles and he sneezes. "Choo!" There's an orange flash, and another fairy Sam pops into existence, right next to the original. The two blink at each other, and then Sam sneezes again. A third Sam pops into existence. "Oh great, must've overdone it," Dean groans. "Hang on, Sammy, I'll get some water and wash it off." Sam answers with more sneezes and more Sams. Dean gets up and races out the door, then around the side of the cottage to where the botanical shower is located. Dean pulls on a large, bell-shaped flower, and water flows through the hollow reeds and out a spout made of pinecones. He grabs another bell-shaped flower and holds it under the spout. Then he hears a familiar voice: The Impala's head is poking around the corner, yellow eyes gleaming in the morning sun.

"Sam's sick, baby. Don't know what yet, but it isn't good." The dragon whines back at him with worry and Dean nods. "I know, I'm scared too. But I'll take good care of him, don't you worry." Dean runs back to the house with his makeshift cup, running his hand along the dragon's side as he passes her, and jogs back up to the door. As soon as he opens it, an avalanche of Sam fairies whooshes out and knocks him down.

_Son of a BITCH!_ Dean yells in his mind, scared that if he opens his mouth, he'll swallow one of the little guys. Carefully, he sits up and brushes the fairies off of him as he takes a look inside. The cottage is covered in Sams, and somewhere among them, muffled sneezes keep firing off in succession.

_So not good. Gotta get to him. NOW. _Dean stands up and whistles for his baby. She comes around the front and looks down at him. "Need your help, sweetheart. Think you could blow down the chimney and clear me some room in there?" She chirrups in confusion as she beholds all the Sams around her. "They're not really him," Dean explains. "OUR Sammy is somewhere inside, and he's gonna suffocate if we don't get him out of there!" She seems to think it over before she chirps a question. Dean shakes his head. "No, he's weighed down by some magic—he won't get swept away with the others, I promise, okay?"

The Impala nods her great head and lifts her snout to the chimney. She breathes in and blows out a single puff of air. Sam fairies shoot out the door and windows, and every last one of them bitchfaces Dean and the dragon. "Thanks babe!" Dean calls as he runs inside. There are still oodles of Sams around, but at least the floor is clear. Dean spies Sam on his pillow, looking absolutely miserable as he sneezes again. A new fairy Sam appears, and original Sam shudders from the exertion. Dean runs over and slides in next to the pillow.

"Here, this should help." Dean slowly pours the water over Sam, gently wiping the excess fairy dust off of him. Sam leans into the cool embrace as his face relaxes out of its pained expression.

"This better work," Sam says—or rather, A Sam says. One of the copies flies over to Dean, little arms crossed. "It's your fault I got this sick in the first place."

"I thought I was helping," Dean protests.

"You call that helping?" another fairy Sam asks. "Hell, you call that THINKING?"

"I helped you when you were an ogre!" pipes up a third. "And you repay me by nearly killing me?"

"You should finish the job," sniffs a fourth. "I'm a freak and a fuck-up. I let out Lucifer. I'm addicted to demon blood. There's nothing good about me. Just take me out of my misery already."

"No, you should kill yourself for not standing by me," snarls yet another one. "I thought you had my back? I thought you loved me!"

Fairies fly in from all directions, surrounding Dean with their disdain and dourness.

"What's WRONG with you, Dean?"

"I'm not good enough for you, Dean."

"I'm SO much BETTER than you, Dean, but you're too stupid to see it!"

"And you bitch at ME that I don't care about you, when it's crystal clear you can't stand me anymore!"

"Why won't you help me, Dean?"

"Why won't you fuck off already, Dean?"

"Dean?"

"DEAN!"

Dean is nearly driven to tears by everything he's hearing, but he keeps his focus on the real Sam. "Sammy, come on," he tries. "Tell me how to help you."

"You've done enough!" the other fairies decry as one. Sam's nose crinkles again, and he hacks out half a sneeze—more a burst of noise than anything. A pair of wings materializes, flap once, then falls and dissolves back into Sam. Dean snaps his fingers.

"That's it!" Cupping his hand around Sam's side again, Dean leans in. "Sam, listen to me. You have to pull yourself together."

The multitude rolls their eyes. "That's stupid," several of them say.

"No it isn't! Look," Dean gestures to the copies, "every one of these guys is a little part of you, Sam. Just call them back in. Put yourself together—literally!"

Sam moans into Dean's palm. "…too hard," he mumbles.

"I know, Sammy, but you have to try, or you won't have a chance at getting better." Sam groans, and Dean rubs his thumb through the graying hair. "Come on, little brother, you can DO this. I know it!" Sam blinks his eyes open, and Dean smiles down at him. "I believe in you," Dean swears. "You've got this. Just give it a chance!"

Sam nods and holds his breath. His wings shake against the pillow as he concentrates, and the fairy copies start to pop like bubbles, disappearing where they float. Dean grins. "Yes, it's working! Keep going!" Sam breathes hard and keeps his mind focused until they're all gone. "Any left outside baby?" Dean calls to the Impala, and she chirrups back a no. Dean smiles down at Sam again, who is panting from the exertion.

"Great job, Sam." Dean wipes the sweat from the tiny brow, and Sam manages a very weak smile.

"Thanks, Dean," he whispers. Dean starts to get up, but Sam holds onto his pinky finger so that he stays.

"I'm just going to get you more water," Dean tells him. "You're still really hot, so I thought a bath might help. That sound okay?"

Sam nods. "You just…want to see me…all nude and sudsy," he jokes. Dean laughs.

"No, you just like my big, strong hands running all over you."

"You…wish." Sam releases Dean's finger from his barely-there grasp.

"Be right back," Dean promises, and he's out the door again. He goes back to the shower area and takes in some air, leaning his forehead against the cool stone wall.

_That was too damn close._ _Nearly lost him. And Sam nearly lost it…_ He tugs on the flower again and makes quick work of washing his face, pits, and feet using the provided soap. It smells like old lady soap, but Dean will take what he can get right now. He tries to clear his mind, but all the accusations and admissions from the Sam clones repeat in his memory anyway, and Dean doesn't know what to think. Is that how his brother really feels about him? About himself? Or were the copies just that—copies, each one a little worse than the last, with crappy attitudes matching crappy facsimiles?

_Doesn't matter right now, _Dean tells himself. _Sam is sick and you need to take care of him. Doesn't matter what he said or what he does or does not really think about you._

Except it does matter to Dean. Greatly. But he buries his feelings deep down, just like always, and gets back to the Saving Sam business. After drying off, he grabs a small, hollow log lying nearby and stuffs the sides with thick leaves until they're packed tight. Then he holds the makeshift bath under the water and adds a little sprinkling of what he hopes is Fantasia's version of Mr. Bubble. To his great relief, it is—even smells like it. Dean makes sure the water is just a smidge on the too hot side instead of too cold, exactly the way Sam likes it. Only then does he carefully run it back to the cottage and sets it down next to Sam.

"Think you can climb in yourself?" Dean asks softly. Sam tries to move his arm, but his hand flops right back down. "It's okay, Sammy, I gotcha." Dean helps Sam out of his small clothes, noting Sam's embarrassment and making sure he doesn't look at Sam's Area as the teeny underpants come off. "Here we go." Dean slides his hand underneath Sam's tiny form and lifts him into the tub. He's still very, weirdly heavy, but Dean can manage him now that he's right next to him. Sam settles down into the welcome waters with a soft, relieved moan.

"Just let me know when you're ready to get out," Dean tells him, and he sits down on the bed and turns on the TV, keeping the volume very low so he doesn't bother Sam. He channel surfs until he finds a news program for his brother. Dean loves that the anchor resembles the creature from the blue lagoon, but he keeps the snark to himself, wanting Sam to rest completely. So Dean settles back into his pillow and tries to pay attention to the morning's air traffic report. Apparently there's a Pegasus pile up on the Odlefelt Expressway…

* * *

As the day goes on, Sam only seems to get worse despite Dean's constant care. Sam still sneezes on occasion, each one draining him of more strength and color. Dean has tried everything to get him to stop sneezing. He's washed all the dust off the floor and furnishings, turned Sam's pillowcase inside out, and even wiped the little fairy face with water at regular intervals, but nothing has worked. At least they've slowed down, but Dean fears it's because Sam is getting worse, not because Dean eliminated any possible allergy triggers.

At the moment, Dean is sitting on his bed, his legs spread out in front of him. The pillow rests in his lap, and Sam still lies in the middle, heavy and miserable. Dean has just used the magic plate to create a bowl of maple and brown sugar oatmeal for Sam, and now Dean brings the huge spoon toward the tiny mouth. Sam keeps his lips shut and moves his head to one side, every bit like an infant who doesn't want his yucky medicine.

"C'mon, Sam, you have to eat," Dean coaxes. "And you love this stuff! Please just take a little bite?" Dean tries again, but the fairy pushes the huge spoon away.

"Stop rubbing it in my face!" Sam spits.

"Huh? I didn't even touch you with the oatmeal."

"Not the oatmeal, YOU. You and your bigness, Dean! Stop reminding me how small I am!"

Dean drops the spoon back into the bowl. "Sorry," he says. Sam sighs.

"No, I'm sorry. You're just trying to help. And I'm being an asshole."

"You're allowed," Dean placates. "You feel like crap. I get it." Dean pats him on the head and puts the oatmeal back on the plate. "Could I get this in a fairy-sized bowl?" The oatmeal disappears and reappears as a teensy version of itself. Dean picks it up between his thumb and index finger and places it next to Sam. "Better?"

"Much. Thanks." Sam tries to pull the bowl onto his stomach, but he's so weak that he can barely move his fingers at this point. Dean sets the bowl on Sam's stomach and helps Sam sit up enough to eat.

"Take your time, Sammy," he soothes. "Not like we have to be anywhere anytime soon."

Sam takes a slow bite, and Dean slips off the bed to clean up the mess all around them. One of Sam's sneezes brought the TV to life, and Dean pretty much destroyed the one-room cottage before he was able to stab the little bastard with his sword. Now Dean sweeps up the glass and splintered wood, pushing everything outside. He looks around, confirms he's alone, and lifts up a corner of the cottage like it's made of papier-mâché. He sweeps the mess underneath and then eases the house back down. Dusting off his hands, Dean goes back to Sam. The tiny bowl is half-empty, and Sam is reclining once more.

"Done?" Dean asks, and Sam nods. Dean takes the little bowl back to the plate, and the bowl disappears. Dean packs the plate back in his leather pouch.

"Did you eat?" Sam asks. Dean shakes his head.

"Not hungry."

"What about your metabolism? What if you get sick again?"

Dean shrugs. "Then I'll eat," he says simply. Sam gives him the Nostrils of Concern, but Dean fluffs Sam's pillow and pretends he doesn't see it.

"Dean, about earlier…what I…well, what the other Me-s said."

"It's fine, Sam."

"No, it isn't."

Dean fixes his brother with a kind look. "It's FINE. Honestly. Don't worry yourself sick about it, okay? You're sick enough already."

Sam sneezes in reply, and they both brace for oncoming weirdness. Nothing happens. "Maybe you're getting better?" Dean hopes. Then they hear a tapping at the door. They exchange looks before Dean creeps over for a look. There is no peep hole, so Dean grabs his sword, counts to three, and throws the door open. No one is there. But then he hears a tiny peep and looks down…and gasps.

"What, WHAT?" Sam cries, hating that he can't just get up and go look for himself. Dean picks something up and carries it back to Sam.

"You'd better be able to fix this…" Dean dumps the little handful onto the bed. It's the Impala, only Sam-sized and sporting wings. She looks confused but okay, and she chirrups at the boys in turn.

"Aww," Sam's muddled head can't help but remark.

"No! There's no 'aww' about this!" Dean scolds. "Soon as you're better, you're fixing her. I am NOT gonna be caught with some Barbie-sized version of my car!"

The Impala licks him once and nuzzles his knuckle, and Dean's angry face grows soft. "Aww," he smiles. Sam laughs, but soon succumbs to coughing. The little dragon makes her way up the pillow and wraps herself around Sam, neck by his head and tail by his toes. She purrs against him, and Sam pets her. "She's so soft!" he marvels.

"I know. She's like that when she's big, too."

Sam pets her a few more times until his remaining strength wanes and his arm falls slack. The Impala licks his face and snuggles in closer. Dean gets his wooden cell phone out and takes a picture. It asks him where he wants to send it and brings up his contacts. To Dean's great surprise, it's the same list of contacts as on his regular phone.

"No way!" Dean highlights Bobby's number and the picture sends. "Please let this work…"

"What work?" Sam murmurs.

"My phone. It has all my contacts from home! Maybe we can get Bobby or Cas on the line!" Sam's face fills with hope. "I just send Bobby a picture," Dean informs him. "Now we just have to wait and see if it—"

The phone vibrates with its woodpecker taps, and Dean looks at the screen. His face falls at the display: _Message refused by server. _Dean sighs and slumps onto the side of the bed. "So much for that. Guess we're really on our own here, Sammy." He peers at his brother and finds the fairy lying still. TOO still. "Sam?" Dean rustles the little body, but Sam doesn't stir.

"Shit." Dean gets up and puts an ear to Sam's chest. He hears breathing and beating—good signs. But Sam's color is visibly paling now. The Impala chirps with worry and nudges Sam to move. He doesn't. "We need help," Dean decides. He picks up the little dragon and puts her in his leather pouch. Then he goes back to Sam, lifts the heavy weight, and carries him to the pouch as well. The Impala chirps at Dean to put him on top of her.

"You sure? He's really heavy now." She nods, and Dean carefully sets Sam down on the little dragon's back. She bears him with ease, just the same as if she was normal and Dean was on her back.

"Hang on tight," he tells them both before he shuts the pouch. Then Dean slings the strap over his head and bolts out the door. He veers to the right and bounds into the thick forest, jumping over some obstacles and plowing right through others in his haste. His eyes never leave the ground, searching for a very specific something. But the ground is muddy and overgrown with moss and ferns. Dean has to slow his pace considerably so he can bend over and take a closer look. Finally, about two miles in, he finds it: a ring of white, speckled mushrooms.

"Yahtzee." Dean kneels down and sets his leather pouch on the ground. He peers inside. "You two still okay?" he whispers. The Impala peeps an affirmative, but she nudges Sam with her snout to show that he is still out of it. "Hold on, Sammy," Dean tells him, hoping he can hear his voice. "Help is on the way."

Dean takes the shiniest gem out of the pouch and places it in the center of the ring. _Here's hoping Fantasia fairies are like Earth ones…_ Dean clears his throat and places his hand over his heart. "I humbly beseech the help of the Faire Folk," he recites. "I am too weak and too ordinary to help my brother. Please, accept my gift and treat with me." With that, Dean bows forward, still on his knees, until his chin dips into the mud. It isn't long before a sparkling light shines out in front of him. A female fairy, platinum blond with shimmering amber wings, has appeared in the ring and is beholding the gem.

"Shiny," she compliments, looking it over for flaws. "I like it!" She looks upon the furry, sweaty mass before her and adopts a wry smile. "A barbarian needs a fairy's help? I never thought I'd see the day."

"Please, help my brother." Dean gently lifts Sam from the bag and lies him down next to the ring.

"Your brother is a fairy? How?"

"We're travelers," Dean explains patiently.

"Well that makes more sense. Still, sucks to be your brother."

"Why, because he's a fairy?"

She laughs hard at that. "No, because he's related to a disgusting barbarian!"

The Impala flies out at that remark and growls at the fairy. "Aww, aren't you the cutest thing!" She flutters forward and pets the dragon. The Impala resists at first, but the fairy must have a literally magic touch, because soon the little dragon lands and rolls over onto her back so the fairy can give her soft underbelly a rub. "You're so sweet!" the fairy praises, and the dragon purrs.

"Please," Dean interrupts, and the fairy gives him a look of irritation. Dean ignores it. "My brother is very sick. He needs your help." The fairy glances at Sam while she continues to rub the tiny dragon. "Will you help him" Dean begs, careful not to say 'CAN you help.' He learned that lesson the hard way back home.

The fairy looks pensive, but she nods at length. "Yes, I will help."

Dean bows. "Thank you."

"But only if you give me your mini-dragon."

Both Dean and the Impala make a "whuh?" sound. "I like her," the fairy continues. "And no other fairy has a pet mini-dragon. I'll be the envy of the court!"

Dean looks and feels heartbroken. The Impala flies up to his face, gives his cheek a lick with her silken tongue, and sings at him to let her go.

"But…I can't live without you!" Dean whispers. "You and me, we're a pair! How am I supposed to go on without my best girl?"

She chirrups a reminder about Sam, and Dean looks down at his suffering brother. He heaves a sigh. "All right," he says, eyes watering as he shuts them. "You may take her with you."

To his surprise, he hears little hiccups. Dean opens his eyes to the fairy crying. "You understand her!" she exclaims, voice catching in her throat. "Truly you two share a bond. I won't…I CAN'T separate you. She may stay under your care."

The Impala springs forward and covers the fairy in kisses, and Dean leans in and kisses her gently on top of her head. "Mmm, soft lips," she purrs. "You really are different from other barbarians, traveler." Dean gives her his sexiest smile, and her entire body turns a shade of pink. "A very enticing kind of different," she winks. Then she flies over to the stricken fairy. "Now let's see to your brother."

She studies him in silence, and Dean resists the urge to lean in closer, not wanting to piss her off now that she's on their side. The fairy cups Sam's chin and his bleary eyes open to her bright ones. She gives him a knowing nod.

"Trying to change who you are," she says matter-of-factly. "Silly boy, no magic in any world is powerful enough to do that! No wonder you caught the sniffles."

"The sniffles?" Dean repeats, doubtful. "I think whatever he's got is a lot worse than a cold."

"Oh no, the fairy sniffles are much worse than the human ones." She kneels down and soothes her fingers through Sam's hair. "We're creatures of magic, but we're still prone to the same physical discomforts as other life forms. If we use our magic too much at any one time, we grow weak—the same as if you would run too far and get tired and sore. When you're weak, you get sick, same as us." She rests her hand against Sam's cheek now in comfort. "The problem with fairy sniffles is that it keeps triggering our magic reflexes, so the fairy gets weaker and weaker."

"How do we stop it?" Dean asks.

"Simple: we get him the healing potion and he gets some rest. That's why he's so heavy right now, by the way—his fairy body is keeping him still so his wings can barely move. That way when he sneezes, he doesn't use as much magic as he would if his wings would beat with him."

Dean nods, oddly fascinated by all of this. "Please let me you have the healing potion…?"

"Not on me, no, but our mage can prepare some. She lives nearby." The female fairy looks up at Dean. "And it won't be cheap."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Course not." He empties the contents of his pouch on the ground next to the ring. "Take anything you want. Just please help Sam!"

The fairy looks over the pile and sifts through a few pieces, unimpressed with the gold coins and gemstones. Then she spots something else and gasps. "ANYthing?" she poses to Dean.

"Yes, anything, just pick something!"

She lifts the strange rock the Impala coughed up back in Candyland, smiling at the barbarian in triumph. When Dean doesn't react, she frowns. "You don't care that I'm taking your fire stone?"

"Nnnnn-o… Why?"

She's taken aback. "WHY? Are you serious?"

"Look, my brother is getting sicker by the second. Take the damn rock and heal him already!"

"This isn't just a rock, you idiot, it's a fire stone! Do you know how rare they are? How valuable?"

"Do you see how little I care? Sam is more important than anything!"

She flutters up and looks him in the eye, marveling at the determination and love she sees within. "You truly do care about him?"

"More than life itself," Dean says in absolute truth.

"That's good, since a fire stone IS life itself. A dragon only produces one in its entire lifetime, and most of them are stolen almost immediately by dwarves or rogues so they can sell them on the plaid market."

"Don't you mean the black market?"

"Huh? Black market? That doesn't make any sense." She waves the barbarian's ridiculous comment out of the air. "Fire stones aren't only extremely rare, but priceless as well. Inside is the essence of creation! With this stone you can cure any disease, bring a loved one back from the dead, even create new life!"

"So I could use it to cure Sam!" Dean exclaims, reaching for it, but the fairy holds it out of reach.

"You can only use it once. Then it becomes nothing more than a pretty paperweight."

"So let me use it!"

"But then it will lose its value."

"Okay, YOU use it!"

She smirks with mischief. "I don't want to."

Dean glares at her, but she only smiles back. "Let me keep it, and I will get you the healing potion for your brother."

"Or I could just take it from you and flick you away…"

She shrugs. "Go ahead. I assume you already know the incantation to get the stone to work…" Dean's face falls, and she grins. "No? Aww, too bad."

"Fine," Dean snarls. "Take it."

"No…" Sam's weak voice reaches up between them, and Dean looks down at him. "What if you get sick, Dean? What if you die?"

Dean shakes his head. "I might get sick and I might die—who knows. But if you don't get help right now, you'll definitely die. And I won't let that happen."

"But Dean…what about…you?" Sam asks.

Dean smiles down at him. "What ABOUT me, Sammy?" He nods to the fairy. "Take it. Go. And please, HURRY."

She smiles and flies off. About ten minutes later, she's back, carrying a potion bottle with her. She lands next to Sam and helps him sit up.

"Drink this," she tells him. "It'll help."

Sam drinks it down, and instantly, his color fades back in to full strength. "GOD that's better," he exclaims—and promptly drops into a deep sleep.

"Let him rest now," she instructs Dean. "And tell him to stop trying to become human."

Dean blinks. "How did you know he was trying to do that?"

"I could sense the spell work on him. It's just going to wear him out again. He's a fairy in this world, and nothing can change that." She gives his face a little pat. "And honestly, why would you want to?" she asks his sleeping face.

Dean takes her tiny hand and kisses it. "Thank you, milady."

"You're welcome, Soft Lips." She flies up and kisses him on his bottom lip before she flutters away.

The Impala, still tiny, climbs underneath Sam and lifts him into the air. When she's at eyelevel with Dean, she chirrups a suggestion, and he grins.

"Good idea, babe. I'm starving too." He adjusts how Sam is lying on her, and she growls at Dean. "Hey, I get to be protective too! He's my brother!" She chirps in defiance and flies on ahead of Dean. He just smiles again and follows her through the woods to find a decent picnic spot.

* * *

**A/N Additional:** Aww :) Next chapter will introduce the boys to some enemies…possibly underwater to address a prompt from Nyx Wings. Guess we'll see where my muses take me! Keep the prompts coming!


	6. Prophecy, Shmophecy

**World of Winchester-Craft** (continued)

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter One.

**A/N: **All right, before you kill me for not updating this fic in so long, know this: I come to you with a super long chapter! Hopefully this should make everything square—or parallelogram, at the very least.

Chapter Six is for Nyx Wings, who prompted me for an underwater adventure. Oh and by the way: there's a line in here where Dean says "Careful is my middle name." Just want to point out that I wrote that WEEKS before he said it in episode 6.1, okay? This chapter just gave me a lot of trouble. Speaking of, big thanks to superfire and peacejojo for helping me put my ideas in order! Oh, and since it's been a while, I'll put in a quick reminder of where we left off. Ahem.

_THEN:_

Sam had just been cured of his fairy!sniffles by another fairy, and he fell into a deep sleep while Dean and the mini!dragon!Impala went in search of a nice pic-a-nic spot. We join them just after said pic-a-nic…

_NOW:_

**Chapter Six: Prophecy, Shmophecy**

Sam wakes up smiling from the best power nap EVER. He's refreshed, alert, motivated—and cozy. He opens his eyes and finds the Impala, still small, curled up around him, using her new wings as a blanket for them both. She blinks her eyes and yawns as Sam sits up.

"Hey girl," Sam whispers, and when the Impala sees that Sam is awake and all right, she chirrups and jumps up, covering him with dragon kisses. Sam laughs and tries to hold her back, but she's so happy and adorable that he gives in and hugs her back. Then he holds her head, now about the size of a horse's head to him, and looks into those pale, yellow eyes.

"I owe you an apology," he tells her. She tilts her head, looking confused. "I…well…I'm sorry I freaked out on you when I first saw you as a dragon. You were so…I mean, EVERYthing was SO…!" He holds his arms out to either side and waves them around. "Y'know?" She nods, and he rubs her snout. "But I'm more used to it now. I'm just sorry I ever thought you'd hurt me. Can you forgive me?"

She winks and licks his nose. Sam smiles. "Thanks. So where's Dean?" The dragon lifts her head up and looks to her right, and Sam follows her gaze. Dean's head is in the near distance, eyes shut as he naps. Sam realizes they're in the middle of his brother's broad, barbarian chest just about the same time as said chest lifts gently and lowers again with his breaths. Both the sight and the movement make Sam jump and flutter. _So much for being used to it, _he thinks as he lands again. The living hillside beneath him is already lifting up again, slow and steady, and Sam wonders why he didn't notice right away.

The Impala nudges his shoulder, and when Sam looks, she nods at Dean. Sam shakes his head and replies, "No, let him sleep. You know all the nightmares he still gets. Look at him now." A look of affection creeps onto Sam's face as he watches his brother enjoy some peace. It's a welcome change from the restless nights of pillowed screams.

_Whoosh!_

Sam whips his head around, looking toward Dean's furry boots as he tries to spot what just ran past them. Fairy and dragon crouch down as one…and wait. Nothing happens. Sam keeps watch a few seconds more to be sure. Still nothing. The Impala chirps at him, and though Sam doesn't understand her like Dean can, he gets the gist.

"Sorry. Thought I saw…heh. I don't know. Nevermind…" Sam stands and stretches his arms up, and his wings unfurl and stretch with him. The Impala extends her wings as well and gives them a good shake as she stretches her body out like a cat. Then she flaps her wings and does a quick loop-di-loop, making Sam laugh. "You like those, huh?" She chirrups happily as she lands. "Dean's not going to like 'em at all. You know how he hates flying." The yellow eyes widen, and her head droops. "Hey," Sam approaches her and pats her head between her chrome horns, "that doesn't mean you have to get rid of them! Tell you what—when we get you back to normal, I'll argue on your behalf. Dean won't be able to say no to both of us." She rests her chin on his shoulder and purrs into his neck, and he rubs her snout again. "Speaking of which…" Sam lifts into the air. "No time like the present, right? Let's go!"

Sam flutters away from Dean, and the mini-dragon follows. They land a short distance away. "Okay, uh…stand back. Still not a hundred percent on my magic, so…just in case." She moves backward, and Sam blows out a breath. "Here goes." He flaps his wings hard and concentrates on making her big again. There's a tiny poof! of sparkles, but nothing else happens. The Impala blinks at him. "That was a warm-up," Sam covers. "Hang on." He tries again, and an even weaker poof! appears and poops out. Sam bends over, out of breath, and the Impala whines in concern. "I'm all right," Sam assures her. "Must still be weak from the fairy sniffles."

_Whoosh!_

The two pairs of wings blow sideways as something runs past. Sam stands in front of the little dragon to protect her, but then the dragon jumps over the fairy to protect him instead. They look at each other and then stand back to tail, moving in a slow circle as they try and spot the

_Whoosh!_

but it's too

_Whoosh!_

and they're all

_Whoosh!_

and it sucks, y'know? The Impala nudges Sam's arm, and when he looks, she lifts her head and neck back in the direction of the sleeping barbarian. Sam nods, and they rise into the air. Unfortunately,

_Whoosh!_

they fly right into a heavy sack. The creature holding it shuts it tight and wraps its long fingers over the bindings. One final _Whoosh! _and it's off with its captives.

"DEAN!" Sam calls at the top of lungs. The Impala screeches too, but it's no use: they're too small and too far away for Dean to hear them. Luckily, Sam remembers his wooden cell phone. He takes it out of his pocket and wishes to speak to Dean.

"You are out of magic minutes," the automated voice responds.

"But this is an emergency! I HAVE to speak to my brother!"

The phone lets out a series of taps as the screen turns bright orange. "Emergency Mode activated," a different voice tells Sam. The call goes through, and Sam waits for his brother to pick up…

* * *

Dean swears a bird has mistaken his hip for birdseed. He ignores it, too comfy in his not-quite-awake state, but the tapping persists. He grumbles and feels around for the source of his annoyance. It's coming from within his leather pouch, which is lying against his upper left leg. Dean reaches in and pulls out the nuisance. It doesn't feel like a bird, but square and wooden.

_Like my new wooden cell phone…_ Dean's eyes open at once and he sits up and answers. "Sam?"

"Dean! Something's got us!"

Dean looks around and discovers that neither Sam nor the Impala are in immediate sight. "What? When?"

"Just a minute ago! Do you see us?"

"No, I'm all alone out here! What happened? What's got you?"

"I didn't get a good look at it—it's FAST, Dean. It's got us in a bag and we can't see where we're going."

"Okay, okay…just hang on. I'll find you, I promise." Dean hangs up as he stands. As he grabs his sword and bag, he hears a sharp whistle and looks straight ahead. At the other end of the clearing stands a tall, thin form; Dean can't make out any specific details. It holds up a pouch, beckons Dean with one of its long arms, and Dean learns all he needs to know.

"Big mistake, little man." He thuds into a run, his powerful, muscular legs speeding him across the distance in just a few strides. The creature takes off running, much to Dean's complete lack of surprise, so he picks up the pace. His prey stops every now and then, shaking the bag, and Dean just hopes that Sam and his baby aren't getting nauseas. _All the more reason to catch up to that bastard and make him sorry for kidnapping my family. _Dean grunts into his fastest run, which combines with his incredible barbarian strength to turn him into a juggernaut. Trees splinter as he runs through them, rocks shatter, and the ground breaks with each footfall.

The creature stops running just as a lake appears, and Dean slows down before he plows right into it. It's a pretty big lake—not Great Lakes big, but still very large, filled with murky, midnight blue water and surrounded by high, chalk-colored bluffs on all sides. The creature beckons one last time and takes off for a nearby village, built right into the rocks. As Dean approaches, he spies graceful vaults and bridges that connect tier to tier, building to building, to about halfway up the bluffs. It's beautiful, but lifeless. Empty. Even the numerous piers are abandoned: behind them, Dean makes out long river boats that sit in dry docks, their countless paddles sticking out like spines from their rowing slots. And there is no greenery, anywhere. No flowers, no trees—only dead and twisted vines that scale the walls like earthen scratches.

As Dean makes his way up the stone walkway, people begin to emerge from inside the dwellings. Just as the creature Dean followed here, they are tall but very lean: all long arms and legs jutting out of too-small torsos. Their chests and thighs are covered in armor plates of…well, Dean isn't sure, but they remind him of what the Elves wore in the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy. Their noses are slits, like those on a frog. Their hair, all fiery red, is cut short on men and women alike, and their eyes are big and crimson. And yet, Dean notes, they don't look menacing. If anything, they seem sad, like they've been crying for so long that their eyes are permanently dry and irritated. But Dean keeps his guard up: the only eyes he's interested in right now are colored hazel and pale yellow, respectively.

_And they'd better be okay… _Dean walks through the growing crowd, searching for the creature with the bag, and as he passes by, one word is whispered over and over again: "Prophecy." A few of the kids run along behind the adults, so fast that Dean is only able to see them when they reappear a bit further ahead for another look at the stranger. When Dean reaches the top of the walkway, a man comes out to greet him. He's wearing a big, flashy belt straight out of the WWE, and he bows in front of Dean.

"Welcome, Great Warrior."

Dean frowns. "Cut the crap, Batista. Where are my brother and my car-errr, dragon?"

The village leader snaps his long fingers, and another man _Whoosh!_-es up from the back and joins them. He holds up a small, barred cage. Sam and the Impala are inside.

"Dean!" Sam smiles and the dragon chirps. Dean leans down so he's eyelevel with them, and the Impala licks his fingers and rubs her head against what little skin she can reach between the bars.

"Are you okay?" Dean asks them both.

Sam nods. "Yeah, we're fine, but—"

The man that brought the little captives forward disappears with them again in a flash. Dean brandishes his sword at once, the runes glowing red with their combined power. "Let them go. NOW."

"Please, we mean no harm," the leader says. "We are in desperate need of your help."

"Help?" Dean scoffs. "If you need help, you ASK for it. You don't kidnap people!"

"We were afraid you'd say no," a woman next to Dean admits. Dean's eyes and sword remain fixed on the leader, who wisely keeps his long arms in the air.

"Call it…insurance, Great One." The leader gulps as Dean flexes his muscles and the sword burns with dark light. "Please, hear us out. Once you learn of our plight, perhaps you will understand our desperation."

Dean frowns again, not liking this at all, but he stands down and puts his sword back in its frog holder. "Fine. But I want my brother and dragon out here where I can see them."

The leader nods, and the speedy kidnapper reappears, still holding the cage. The leader holds out his hand. "I am Glur, of the Rikki People."

Dean gives a half-assed handshake. "Dean. Hi."

An excited murmur rushes through the crowd, and Glur steps forward, just as thrilled. "Not…Dean the Destroyer?"

All eyes on Dean, he nods, "Uh, yeah. That's me."

Glur embraces him with those long arms of his as the entire village cheers. Dean just peers down at Sam, both of them trading WTF-looks. Then Glur releases Dean and looks upon him with great admiration.

"At long last, our prayers have been answered. A hero has come to fulfill the prophecy and rid us of our misery!" Everyone cheers again, and Glur extends his arm out toward the building next to him. "Come. I will explain all while we feast in your honor."

Dean grins at the word 'feast,' but quickly drops it before any of the Rikkis see it. _It's just a business lunch, _he tells himself. _For all you know, they've got guns hidden in the bathroom. _He ducks through the narrow opening and steps down into a huge room hewn out of the rock and sunk deep into the ground. Lanterns glow atop pillars that resemble twisted tree roots, and the walls and ceiling are covered in frescoes of aquatic scenery. Dean is escorted to the far end of a long table and placed next to the seat of honor, no doubt reserved for Glur. Sam and the Impala are set down across from Dean, just out of arm's reach, and the kidnapper takes his seat just behind the cage. Other villagers sit down in the remaining chairs, while still others fill the table with food—glorious food! Meat, fruits, rolls, a bowl of what Dean sincerely hopes is mashed potatoes, desserts, roasts, gravies—Dean swallows down the drool as he waits for the okay to chow down. Glur seems to be on Dean's wavelength, because he hands the barbarian a gilded chalice.

"Let this be our gift to you, mighty warrior." Glur nods at Dean to take a drink, and he does, expecting some really cool Fantasia version of wine. But there is no zing, no zip—zilcho. It's just water. Dean notices that everyone at the table is looking at him like he's supposed to say something, so he clears his throat.

"Thanks. Good water. Nice and…clean."

That must be what they wanted to hear, because they all smile at him with gratitude. "Our gift is accepted!" Glur proclaims. "Let the feast begin!"

Everyone tears into their food. The kidnapper slides morsels into the cage as well, and Sam readily digs in, but the Impala won't eat. Instead she makes a low, clunking sound—the kind Dean instantly recognizes My Baby Is Hurting, and his eyes go right to the dragon. She is darting around her cage, wings up at a funny angle and long neck rigid. Sam is trying to calm her down, but she won't settle. Dean reaches for her, and the kidnapper slides the cage back.

"Is there a problem, Great One?" Glur asks.

"I don't think she likes being cooped up," Dean replies absently, watching his sweet little baby lie down. "She needs to be free."

"She'll be released soon, I promise. But for now, please eat." He motions to the food on the barbarian's plate, but Dean only has eyes for the cage; Glur's answer is NOT the one he wanted to hear. So he watches from a distance as Sam offers the dragon a big (to him) piece of meat. She won't take it.

"Aww, Baby…" Dean soothes. He wants so badly to pick up his girl and comfort her, but he knows the damn kidnapper is too fast, so Dean settles for sweet talk. "Please eat something, Baby," he pleads. "It's really good!" She doesn't move, so he waves until her eyes look over at him. "Please? One bite? For me?" She whines but opens her mouth and takes the meat from Sam. "That's my girl," Dean smiles, and he takes a big leg of…something…turkey or ostrich or who knows what...and tears off a bite.

For a few minutes, the only conversation is between appetite and food. Dean's taste buds keep declaring the next bite to be the best, making his stomach growl from his mouth's constant teasing.

"Hey Dean," Sam says at length, "mind if I have a sip of your water?"

"Sure, one sec." Dean takes the shell of a walnut-like nut he just ate, dips it in his chalice, and gives it to Sam. Both the fairy and the dragon quickly drink up. It's only then that Dean realizes he is the sole person at the table with water—no one else has anything to drink. He looks at Glur, whose sullen face stares back.

"Now you see our plight."

Dean glances back at his chalice and what remains of his water. "Is this…" Dean's heart lodges in his throat and he rasps, "Did I just drink all the water you have?"

"No," Glur assures him. "We have a little more in reserve—though, admittedly, it isn't much. And it's a three-day trek over the mountains to the freshwater spring."

"What about the water in the lake?" Sam asks. Every villager at the table grows unsettled at his words.

"The lake," Glur sighs, "is off limits. The Bottom Dwellers have locked us out."

"Bottom Dwellers?" Dean repeats.

"The people that live at the bottom of the lake," Glur explains. "They have been our sworn enemies for generations. It all began long ago, when the Rikki people were led here from the banks of the Great Misty Sea by my ancestor, Galou…"

"Yeah, yeah, cut to the chase, Red," Dean grumps. "I don't need your life story. Just tell me what you want me to do so I can get it done and my brother and my baby can go free." Glur looks annoyed at Dean's rudeness, so Dean throws him a glare to intimidate him just enough to get to the point.

"We need you to bring back the other half of our Stone of Power." Glur gets up and walks to a small altar behind him. There is a golden cistern resting on top, and inside the waters is a triangular wedge. It looks like half of a square-bottomed pyramid—one long side covered in weird carvings, and the front and back torn in half, missing part of the middle and the other half of the pyramid. A fresco above it depicts the stone in its entirety, glowing bright green and surrounded by worshippers.

"So what, you worship the Tri-force?" Dean asks.

Glur is naturally confused. "We do not have a name for it, Great One. But we know it wields great power. My ancestor discovered it soon after our people settled here, but when he tried to claim it for our people, a female Bottom Dweller came out of the water and grabbed it from him. She dropped it in her haste, and the stone broke in two. They took one half and we took the other."

"And it's been Hatfields and McCoys ever since," Dean finishes. The villagers don't understand the reference. "You've been feuding with each other since that day," Dean elaborates, and all at the table nod.

"Exactly," Glur answers. "Sometimes they strike out, sometimes we do, but it always results in ruin. But this time, they've gone too far." Glur looks to the chalice of water in front of Dean. "My people are dying of thirst. We are amphibious people and now, we are not allowed to swim, much less drink. Somehow, the Bottom Dwellers have cast a spell on the lake."

The woman next to Dean elaborates. "It appeared slowly, starting at the far end of the lake, where the few remaining fish still thrived. The water's surface would suddenly freeze, trapping our boats until we got out of them and ran for shore. Then the boats would break apart with the ice and sink. That was several months ago. Now it's everywhere. We can't even dip a cup into the water before it freezes." She gives him a look of sheer despair and states, "We will all die if we do not find a way back into our lake."

Dean reels from this information, feeling awful for these people. "Now you understand our desperation for your help," Glur says quietly. "We couldn't take any risk of you saying no, so we kidnapped your companions to force your hand. I am truly sorry for it."

"If you help us, we will release them, completely unharmed," the kidnapper promises.

Dean nods, ready to help. But there's one thing that's still bothering him. "Why are you so sure I'm the one that can help you? What if I can't get in the lake either?"

Glur stands up and takes the stone. "There is a prophecy." He turns the object to its one intact side and shows Dean the strange letters. "It tells of a barbarian hero who will recombine the stone and bring peace to the valley." He smiles at Dean with great hope. "We believe that you are that hero, Dean."

"Please help us," a woman begs.

"My children cry out with thirst, and I cannot help them," a man calls.

Everyone starts pleading for Dean's help until their cries fill the banquet hall. Dean looks at Sam, who has his hands over his tiny, sensitive ears, and they have one of their Eye Conversations, talking to each other only with looks:

Raised eyebrow. _What do you think, Sammy?_

Tight lips. _I think there's something they're not telling us._

Small nod and full eyes. _No shit. Ten bucks it has to do with how dangerous this really is. Can't wait to find out…_

Lifted brows. _You're not really gonna go for it?_

Rested brows. _What choice do I have? They need help, and besides, they won't let you go if I don't even try. And I'm guessing that cage is stronger than it looks._

Small frown and shaded eyes. _Bars are fairy and fire proof. _

Eye roll. _Naturally. _Front teeth on lips. _Well, here goes nothing._

Mile-high brows and wide, soulful pupils. _Dean…please be careful._

Smirk. _Careful is my middle name._

Smirk. _I thought it was "Feed Me"?_

Bigger smirk. _Whatever, Farty McFly._

Dean claps his hands together, stands up, and turns to Glur. "So? Where's my scuba gear?" No one answers him, so Dean looks at the kidnapper. "You know…to help me breathe? Cos there's no way I'm holding my breath long enough to get all the way down to the bottom of the lake…"

Now the people at the table all look at each other instead of him, save for Glur, who looks upset. "Are you saying that you can't breathe underwater?"

"No, actually, I can't. I'm not half frog, like you guys."

Glur frowns. "Well this won't do at all. How can you be our hero if you can't even breathe underwater?" The other Rikkis are whispering much of the same, throwing Dean looks of mistrust. Dean rolls his eyes.

"Fine! You don't want my help, I'll be happy to leave." He grabs the cage from the kidnapper and turns away. "Why the hell didn't I do that right away?" he asks himself, but he only gets a few steps before several Rikkis whoosh around him and block his way with sharp spears. The kidnapper snatches the cage back in half a blink, and Dean pulls his sword out again. The hall rumbles with his power and anger. "**You really want to do this?**" he warns, eyes flashing with the red runes on his sword. The Rikki roadblock remains, so Dean lifts his sword…and stops. His ears are filled with someone's cries for help.

_Please…help me! _It's a small voice, sounding to Dean like a scared boy. _You're the only one who can end this._ His eyes follow the voice…and widen. It's the stone. He doesn't know how or why, just that it's the truth. The stone starts to glow yellow, and all in the room gasp. Glur nearly drops it in surprise.

"Dean!" Sam shouts. "What's going on?"

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean replies absently. His eyes reflect the stone's glow.

_I will help you if you help me, _the voice promises Dean. _Come closer._ The glow increases, and Dean reaches his hand out.

"What are you doing?" Glur shouts in outrage. "You're not worthy to touch the stone!"

"But it wants me to." Dean steps closer, and Glur places the stone back in its cistern. When Dean tries to move around him, the Rikki leader puts his hands against Dean's chest to stop him, but the barbarian easily pushes him out of the way. The stone's glow becomes painfully bright, and all look away, save for Dean. He touches the stone—

—and the glow goes out. Everyone looks around to see what happened, but nothing seems out of the ordinary.

"AAAAH!"

Except for the big gills on either side of Dean's big torso. Everyone stares at them as Dean lifts a finger to one of the gills…hesitates…then touches it. He hisses at the sensation.

"What, does it hurt?" Sam asks, worried out of his mind.

"No, just…feels weird. Feels like it's part of me…" Dean trails off as he takes a breath in. The gills breathe in with him and then flare out as he releases the breath. He takes a few more, marveling at how easy it is, and how strange! Dean glances back at Sam and finds his fairy brother staring at something above him, and Dean grimaces. "Oh shit, what? Do I have a fin on my head?" He feels around on his head but, thankfully, only finds hair. Sam shakes his head.

"You have a mark on your forehead." Sam points, and Dean feels for it but finds nothing, so he looks down at his reflection in the cistern. Sam was right: a rune of some sort has appeared on the skin between his eyes.

"This shit better not be permanent," he mutters as he tries to rub it off with some water. It doesn't even smear. Then a hand closes over his shoulder, and Dean whirls around. "WHAT?" he drops on a stunned Glur. The leader clears his throat and smiles at the barbarian again.

"The mark is that of the stone. We were right: you ARE our hero! Just as the stone foretold! You're here to rid us—"

"Yeah, yeah, heard it the first time." Dean sighs through his nose, and shudders as part of the breath is filtered through his gills. "All right, I'll take a stab at your prophecy thingy." Then he takes a look at Sam and his baby, who are still in the cage, and he claps a big arm around Glur's ridiculously narrow shoulders. "But if you hurt so much as a hair on his head or a scale on her back, I will rip you all long limb from skinny body. Got that?"

Glur nods and Dean lets him go with a playful, but rough, shove. He turns and ducks through the narrow entrance and everyone in the hall follows him outside. Other Rikkis gather round as Dean heads to the shore and removes his boots.

"You will have to leave your weapons behind as well," the kidnapper informs Dean. "The lake will not permit them."

Dean doesn't quite believe this, so he takes his broadsword and dips the tip into the water. Sure enough, the surface solidifies at once, ice spreading away from the shore and covering the entire lake in milliseconds. Dean takes the sword back, and the water returns to normal. The kidnapper is looking at him with "Told you so" written across his face, so Dean turns away and removes his sword and leather pouch. He kicks his boots off as a final measure, and then Glur steps up beside him and points across the lake.

"The Bottom Dwellers live straight down from the opposite shore. It will take you 20 minutes of hard swimming to reach their underwater lair." He turns Dean by the shoulder to face him. "Be careful, Great One. The Bottom Dwellers live on lies. Do not believe a word they say, or you may never get out."

"I'll ignore them like I ignore doctor's orders," Dean nods, already in full hunting mode and raring to go. _Though I wish I could take a weapon along, _he thinks. _Stupid curses and their fine print. _Then he takes a look at Sam and his baby, who are still in the cage. They reflect worry back at him, so Dean gives them his most confident smile. "Piece of cake," he tells them, hoping they'll buy the lie. "Just like any other hunt, right? Go in, do the job, get out. I'm ready for anything."

Without warning, a large bubble bursts out of the lake and engulfs the small cage…and dissolves it. Sam and the Impala remain inside their new, spherical cage as it lifts them out of the kidnapper's hands and zooms back below the water in the blink of an eye.

"…except that," Dean admits.

"It's the Bottom Dwellers!" Glur shouts. "They're after—!"

Dean doesn't wait for the long-winded details: he dives in and swims hard, chasing after the bubble burglar. It isn't long before the sphere is cloaked from view; the lake is murky and filled with dead, tangled plants. But he can hear them—how or why, he doesn't know and doesn't care, but Sammy is calling his name and his Baby is screeching for help. It pushes him on, harder and harder until his gills burn with the need to cough. And if THAT isn't a strange feeling! Air coming through his sides instead of his nose or mouth, and yet the tickle from the grit in the water is building in his throat like normal. Dean attempts a cough, and though his throat tickle goes away, his gills flare out at a wide angle and hurt his ribs, like he just pulled a muscle. Dean places this ordeal at Number One on his Weirdest Experiences list.

_Funny, _he smirks, _never thought the suicidal teddy bear could be topped._ He can't help but wonder what it will take to push this fishy adventure to Number Two. He also knows it's only a matter of time before he finds out.

Dean's eyes narrow as he tries to find something to guide him, but the waters are so dark that everything looks the same: watery and dark. Save for a pinprick of light that he very nearly misses: it's far in front of him and slightly down, so he uses that as his target and swims on, hoping it's the right way to go.

* * *

Ten minutes pass by, and Dean calls bullshit on two facts Glur had told him: one, it only took him nine minutes to get to his destination, not 20 (_Probably because they didn't count on me being so awesome, _he thinks proudly), and two, the Bottom Dwellers don't live in an evil lair at all. In fact, their buildings are almost exact replicas of what the Rikkis live in, though the underwater village rests inside a huge, glass dome, lit up with warm white lights on every rooftop. Etchings of reeds and plants adorn the glass and blend the city in with its marine surroundings. It's beautiful.

As Dean swims closer, he is joined by creatures that swim as fast as the Rikkis run. They also resemble the surface people, sharing the same slit noses and overly-long limbs, but the newcomers sport long blue hair and are equipped with graceful fins behind each calf and down their backs. They stare at Dean with big blue eyes, looking just as curious and hopeful as the folks topside. Soon they are swimming with him, and a few beckon him to follow. They lead Dean past the huge dome, which Dean can now see is actually a gigantic bubble, not glass at all. He swims on and soon happens on a submerged cave. After a few feet, the walls start tipping up, and Dean can see light above him. With a final push, he breaks the surface of a small pool inside the domed city. The swimmers help him out and wrap him in warm towels, though they don't towel themselves off at all. They all ooh and aah at his gills, and a few of the towel bearers risk a touch. Dean giggles, and they jump back. Then a woman in a long, white skirt and bearing a crown of blue and green gems approaches him with a smile.

"At long last, our prayers have been answered. A hero has come to fulfill the prophecy and rid us of our misery!" She embraces Dean as the swimmers cheer all around them, but Dean rolls his eyes.

_Not this prophecy shit again…_ He gently eases her away and gives her a half smile. "I'm Dean," he says, and no sooner is his name out than hears "Dean the Destroyer!" whispered around the growing crowd. The Queen, or whatever she is, bows before him.

"I am Geeya, of the Lucii People."

"Lucii?" Dean repeats with a big smirk. "You're kidding, right?" She looks confused. They all do. "Look, they're the Rikkis," Dean says as he points up, "and you're the Luciis! That's awesome! Where are the Freds and Ethels?"

"There are no people of that name…" Now appearing concerned, Geeya caresses Dean's hair with her long fingers. "Are you sure you are well, Hero Dean?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. But you've got some s'plaining to do, Luciis!" He says it in his best Desi Arnaz impression and even waggles his pointy finger at Geeya, but no one gets it, so he sighs. "I'm being funny," he pouts. Then he rolls his broad shoulders and stands tall. "All right, Improv hour's over. Where's your half of the stone?"

"Safe," she answers carefully. "Why do you ask?"

"Because the Rikkis are holding my brother and my sweetheart prisoner..." He trails off as he remembers that this is no longer true. "Okay, WERE holding them. Then a big bubble grabbed them and—"

"Brought them down here, where it's safe," she finishes, nodding to her right. Dean looks over and sees Sam and the little dragon, free of any kind of cage and now resting on a lush pillow that another Lucii woman is carrying. Dean smiles in relief, and he sees Sam do the same. Then the Impala lifts off and flies over to Dean.

"_Cheep_!" The Impala lands on his right shoulder and nuzzles and purrs into his neck. Dean puts his hand over her little body and rubs her right back. "You okay sweetheart?"

"She's fine," Sam promises, hovering in front of Dean's face. "What about you?"

Dean shrugs. "Other than feeling like a fish with an asthma problem…" He coughs, but the grit in his throat and lungs remains.

"The lake is cursed," Geeya cuts in. "My people are amphibious, and even we can only stand the dirtied waters for a few minutes before it chokes us."

"Then why did you curse the lake?" Sam asks. Geeya gives the fairy a big frown.

"We didn't. The Rikkis did."

"That's not what we heard," Dean replies.

"The Rikkis told you it was us?" Geeya surmises. Dean nods, and she sighs. "And you believed them. Typical Land Dweller. I suppose they also told you that we broke the stone of power?" Dean and Sam give each other long looks, and Geeya's blue eyes drill into both sets of greens. "The Rikkis are liars," she declares.

"Funny," Dean sneers, "they said the same thing about you."

The Queen glares. "They are wrong. WHY would we curse our own lake?"

"A necessary evil to keep the Rikkis out?" Sam offers.

"Absolutely NOT!" Geeya shouts. "THEY put a spell on the lake to keep us IN! If we didn't have our dome, we all would have drowned long ago! And now they leave us here to starve to death instead…" She shakes her head, folds her long arms, and shuts her eyes until she calms down. Then she looks at them as kindness returns to her face. "Come. We will enlighten you with the truth over refreshments." She extends her arm to a nearby entryway that is covered in hanging scarves and beads, but Dean remains where he is, while Sam and the dragon rest on his shoulders.

"Uh-huh. How do we know this isn't all some trick?"

"You don't," she admits. "But the least you can do while you're here is listen to our side of the story. Then, if you are still convinced that WE are the evil ones, you may attempt to take our stone."

"Attempt?"

Geeya smiles slyly. "It has a bad habit of killing those unworthy to touch it." Her gaze lingers on his forehead rune. "But then again…perhaps you will be different." She disappears through the entryway and calls out, "Won't you join me?"

The Luciis escort the barbarian, fairy, and miniature dragon into the dwelling, and it's déjà vu all over again for Dean. The Lucii hall is exactly the same as the Rikkis, and that includes the altar, the cistern, and the other half of the Triforce resting near the banquet table. But the walls and ceiling bear different frescoes: they depict the Rikkis as savages, setting fire to the lake itself and killing all manner of aquatic creatures with their spears. A Lucii taps Dean on the shoulder and then motions for him to take a seat next to Geeya. Other Luciis sit down, while still others bring out every kind of drink imaginable, hot and cold, frozen and blended, shaken or stirred, you name it. A large mug of a golden-colored elixir is placed before Dean. Steam rises from the top, and when Dean takes a sniff, his nostrils are filled with cinnamon and vanilla. Dean's body feels warmer already, and he hasn't even taken a sip yet.

"It's called Home Brew," Geeya smiles. "It's a tea that revitalizes mind, body, and spirit by making you feel at home. It smells and tastes different to everyone in Fantasia. And to prove it isn't poisoned…" She takes his mug, drinks, and swallows. Nothing happens. Smiling again, she hands it back. "There. Satisfied?"

Dean nods and takes a sip. Instant comfort spreads over him as a liquid blanket. He feels rested, cozy…even loved. And the taste is marvelous—it's apple pie at the beginning, birthday cake in the middle, and hot chocolate at the end. He slides it over to Sam, who has to lift up and flutter to take his own drink, but it has the same calming effect on the fairy: he licks his lips and smiles at Dean as he floats back to the table.

"Tastes just like strawberries and cream," Sam says dreamily.

"Your dragon is welcome to try as well," Geeya offers, but the Impala shakes her head and chirrups at Dean.

"She says she's sweet enough already, and I have to agree." Dean gives the Queen a smile and adds, "Thank you for letting them go."

"You are most welcome. We don't believe in prisoners, much less holding fellow living creatures ransom to ensure help."

Dean's eyebrows furrow into his forehead. "How did you know about that?"

"This is not the first time the Rikkis have tried to force their false Prophesy into being," Geeya tells them grimly.

"False prophecy?" Sam repeats. Geeya nods.

"They have twisted the inscription on the stone to fit their own needs. It is not the Rikkis that the barbarian hero needs to save," she turns to Dean, "but the Rikkis that need to be STOPPED."

Geeya sets her hands on the table and begins. "I'm sure Glur told you the Rikki version of events surrounding the discovery of the stone." Dean nods. "I'm sure he didn't bother mentioning that my people were here first. The Luciis have lived in and along this lake since the dawn of time. And when the Rikkis first came to our shores, we befriended them. We showed them the best places to catch fish and even helped them build a village similar to our own."

"Until you found the stone," Dean says, hoping to speed story time up. Geeya nods.

"They wanted the stone and its power for themselves. But we felt that it should stay where it was—that it was there for a reason and should be left alone. So my ancestor, Glion, took the stone from the Rikki leader's greedy hands. But the Rikki hit Glion and she dropped it. The stone broke in two. Glion grabbed the half that fell in the water and swam away as quickly as she could, scared that the Rikkis would try and spear her to get to the stone." Geeya sighs. "We've been fighting each other ever since, and our valley, once peaceful and lush with life, withered and died from their vile presence."

A man sitting next to Dean takes over. "When the lake barrier came into being, we knew they'd gone too far. We don't know what magic they used, but now whenever we try to surface, a covering of thick ice spreads across the entire lake. We are trapped down here with no food. So many have died of hunger…" He glares at Dean and remarks, "And they call US the evil ones."

"But the dark days are finally over," Geeya proclaims, "for our hero has arrived and will finally drive the Rikkis away. Just as the true prophecy foretold!"

"Geeya, do you mind showing us the inscription on your stone?" Sam asks. "I just want to see how it differs from the Rikki's half."

She nods and gets up. "You will notice the difference at once." Gathering the stone in her arms, she turns the intact pyramid side to Dean and Sam, who both look it over…and frown. She frowns in turn. "What is the matter?"

"It looks exactly the same," Sam answers.

"Yup," Dean nods, "right down to the mark that looks like a sideways 'B.'" He points to it and the stone begins to glow bright blue. At the same time, the mark on his forehead burns, and Dean winces from the sting.

_You're here, _another small voice—this one like a little girl—speaks up in his ears. _You're finally here! Take me back to my brother, please!_

The glow reaches out to Dean's fingers and moves up his arm, then his shoulder, and finally over his face. It flashes to a bright blue and then disappears. Dean is hit with dizziness and falls back on his chair, slamming into the floor. Geeya and other Luciis crowd around him, and a male helps Dean sit back up while a female gives Dean his mug of Home Brew. He takes a long sip and groans.

"Dean?" Sam asks, hovering above his brother's forehead. "You all right?"

Dean nods and lets out another groan. "Ungh…let me guess. Another target got drawn on my face." Someone hands Dean a mirror, and sure enough, a second rune has been added above the one already there. The two are intertwined with each other. The Luciis are all staring at him like he's got two heads instead of two runes, and he frowns at them all. "I'm not a billboard. Stop staring and tell me what they say!"

"We…don't know," Geeya admits. "Your new rune is on our half of the stone, and it isn't a word—it's a symbol of some kind. Did you see the other rune on the Rikki stone?"

"I don't remember to be honest." Dean rests heavily on the male Lucii as he stands up, and the man nearly crumbles from the barbarian's mass. "Maybe. Probably."

"Definitely," Sam answers, reaching out to touch the rune on Dean's forehead. His tiny finger burns at the touch, and Sam pulls his hand back from the sting. Dean is hissing as well.

"Don't touch it! Hurts like a mother as it is…" He sees the Impala drop back to his other shoulder, having just been about to dragon kiss it. He gives her a pet, and she licks his fingers. The runes on his forehead are burning again, and he winces from their annoying pain. _How many more times to I gotta get branded before I figure out what the hell is going on?_ His eyes fall back on the Lucii's stone, and the voice hits him again:

_Take me to my brother! Help us bring peace!_ _Only together can we end the suffering!_

The blue glow grows, and Dean's mind is flooded with images, feelings, and history all on fast forward. Dean's eyes glow blue as he bears witness to 3,000 years of truth in just a few seconds.

"Dean?" Sam asks—his brother has that same scary, faraway look as he did back in the Rikki's great hall.

"They're all to blame," Dean answers distantly. Sam and the Impala look at each other, puzzled and worried. Dean's eyes blink slowly, and he turns to look at the fairy. "She wants me to take her to her brother."

"Who does?"

"The girl in the stone. Her brother is in the other stone. They must be reunited." Dean reaches for it, but Geeya holds it away.

"I'm not letting you take our stone."

"But it wants me to."

The Luciis laugh at that, save for Geeya, who stands very still and serious. "I cannot allow you to take our stone to the Rikkis. They will destroy everything!" The stone starts to glow again, red hot this time, and Geeya cries out as it burns her arm. She drops it, and Dean catches it easily. The glow cools to its former blue, and brightens for a moment before fading out. The blue glow drops from Dean's eyes as well, and as the green irises reappear, his face hardens with purpose.

"Come on, Sammy. We're late for a family reunion. Baby, you too, let's go." Dean turns to leave, and the hum of electricity fills the air. Dean is now surrounded by Luciis, each holding an electric eel-like whip. Geeya strikes hers against the floor, and it cracks as lightning. She holds her other hand out.

"The stone, please. I will not ask twice."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Get out of my way, Queenie. I'm not asking YOU twice, either." The Luciis press in, sparks from the electric whip scarring the floor, and Dean stands tall, flexing his pecs and giving them all his best 'bring it on' smirk. The Impala whines from his shoulder, and Sam flies up to his ear.

"What're you doing?" Sam whispers.

"Getting this stone out of here," Dean answers.

"Why? Are the Rikkis right after all?"

Dean looks at him and replies, "Nope. Neither are the Luciis. I've seen the truth, Sam, and it ain't what either Ricardo's been spewing at us."

One of the whips cracks through a pillar of stone, and the rubble piles at Dean's bare feet.

He presses the stone close to his chest, holding it like a football.

_If you help me and my family escape, I'll get you back to your big bro, _Dean thinks to the stone.

_I promise! _the girl voice replies. Dean nods.

"You can't honestly believe you'll escape," Geeya mocks him. "We swim faster than thought itself. We'll have you surrounded and drowned before your first kick to the surface."

Dean gives her a dangerous grin. "Then I'll just take a U-turn, baby." Dean's shoulders whip around, and the Impala grabs Sam by his pink jacket and flies him after the barbarian as he plows through the back wall and out into the open courtyard.

"You have a codeword with your car?" Sam shouts from behind, and Dean laughs.

"Course we have code words! She's my girl!" Dean sees Sam fly up on the right side of his face, and he grins at the fairy. "Don't be jealous, Sam—I have love enough for two." Sam throws him the bitchface, and Dean ignores it. "Just keep flying!" The Impala chirps to Dean's left, letting him know she's there, and Dean looks down at the stone. "Can you make me something to carry them in? They'll need their own air."

_And you'll need your hands. Open your mouth!_

"Huh?"

A leather strap forms over his tongue, and it attaches to two bubbles that form around Sam and the Impala on either side of Dean's face. _Not what I was thinking, but hey, this works too, _Dean thinks in thanks.

_How do you know?_ Sam's voice yells in Dean's mind. _What if the bubbles pop?_

_They won't pop, I swear! _the girl replies.

_Who was that? _Sam asks.

_The girl in the stone!_ Dean yells._ How are you hearing this, Sammy?_

_How are any of us DOING this? _Sam yells back.

_Chirpy-cheep?_

_You too, baby?_

_Why can't I understand her?_

_I don't know—can I get back to focusing on escaping, please?_

_Yes, get me back to my brother!_

_You really have a brother?_

_Chirrrup?_

_SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!_

Dean grits his teeth, and the strap they're holding, as he runs toward the pool, Luciis closing in from every side. He fakes at the last moment and barrels toward the edge of the bubble dome. _Oh shit this is gonna hurt…_ Bending over, he head-crashes through the barrier, which breaks as glass but seals back up behind him, giving Dean a head start. A blue glow surrounds him and his bubble carrier.

_I'll make you fast, like them, _the stone promises. _Now head left, into the caves! _

Dean speeds through the murky depths, able to see around him much better now thanks to his healthy blue glow, and in no time he's plunged down into a system of caves. He knows he's being followed, and not just due to hunter instincts: the crackle of eel whips pelts through the water as deep static, like someone has submerged a giant television set. Dean swims down, and a Lucii zooms up alongside and whips him in the back.

_FUUUUCK! _

Sam and the Impala both cringe from the mental yell. The Lucii tries again, but Dean recovers and grabs the whip, pulling it away and ignoring the burns forming in his palms. He ties the Lucii up in the whip and pulls him into the next cave tunnel. There, he presses himself and his captive to the ceiling—and waits. Three more Luciis come, and Dean holds off his attack until they're all in. Then he hurls the tied-up Lucii at them as an electrified torpedo. They all smack into the wall, shocking each other, and cave dust spews into the water.

_Sunk YOUR battleship, _Dean grins in victory.

_Do not linger! _the stone warns. _The Queen is sending in more forces!_

On cue, a spear sails through the water and hits Dean in his left set of gills—and jolts him with an electric shock. Sam and the Impala shout his name as he rides out the pain, arms flailing and useless. He kicks his feet against a stone and pushes into the wall. The spear shifts on impact, and Dean pulls the terrible weapon out. Milky blood seeps from the wound. _Dammit, now I'll leave a trail…_

_If you don't drown first!_ Sam says, sounding scared. _Please, Dean, get out of here! _

_We're close to the exit, _the stone tells them. _There's a fork up ahead. Hurry!_

Dean swims on at a slower clip due to his injuries. It hurts to breathe: his injured gills are wafting like wet clothes instead of fish lungs, so his right side has to work twice as hard to keep him going—and that hurts in its own right. But Dean soldiers on until they come to a larger cavern. There are two tunnels ahead of them: one open, one barely so due to a partial cave-in. Dean heads to the caved-in one without a second thought. The Impala screeches with worry, and the stone echoes in words with her own:

_Don't go in there! It's suicide!_

_Exactly, _Dean thinks back. _They'd be crazy to follow. _He heads inside just as his pursuers enter the cavern. It's a tight fit—Dean has to kick through rocks to fight for more room as he goes, and that causes mini cave-ins that threaten to trap him. Behind him, Luciis are zapping their own barriers away with their electric weapons, and the narrow tunnel fissures and gets narrower. Dean sees the exit up ahead, and he swims on as best he can.

_HURRY! _all the voices in his head are shouting. _And don't stop to be a smartass, _Sam yells additionally. _Just go!_

Dean wriggles around a huge boulder and slides out and into the home stretch. But something reaches out and grabs Dean's foot from behind the boulder, keeping him just an arm's reach shy of the exit. He squirms and kicks, fighting to break free before he gets shocked again, but the Lucii on the other side of the rock hangs on tight.

_You like it rough, bitch? Fine! How's THIS for rough? _Dean clasps his hands together and strikes the cave wall with all of his barbarian strength. The cave buckles and collapses, and the Lucii lets go as it no doubt tries to swim for its life. Dean shoots through the exit and into open waters.

…and is at once surrounded by ever last Lucii in the lake. Some of them are swimming in place, spears and whips at the ready, while others are riding on mechanical alligators, complete with snapping jaws and razor-sharp teeth. The Queen appears on the back of a large, steam punk seahorse, which, Dean has to admit, is pretty damn cool looking.

"You have two choices, Dean," she informs him. "Release the stone back into our protection, or die. What is your choice?"

Dean smirks as an idea comes to him, and his blue glow brightens. "I'll take the express elevator, thanks." He holds the stone over his head, and he rockets straight up, Sam and the Impala speeding right along with them. The Luciis give chase, but even their unnatural speed is no match for the stone.

_I love one-upping the bad guys, _Dean grins at Sam, who grins back. _It never, ever gets old, y'know?_

_Uh-oh, _the stone says, and Dean frowns.

_Uh-oh? No way, no uh-ohs allowed!_

_Sorry, but look! The barrier!_

Dean sees dark ice overhead instead of watery sunlight. What's worse, he can make out hundreds of shadows. _Sons of bitches are waiting to ambush me! _Dean realizes. To his surprise, they speed up even more. _Are you nuts? What if you break up when we hit the ice?_

_We won't! At this speed, we'll shoot through, completely unharmed! I-I think._

_You THINK?_ Dean and Sam say in unison.

_I…hope? Just keep your body straight!_

Dean gulps, Sam shuts his eyes, and the Impala curls in on herself.

3…

Spears shoot up at him from below and stick to the bottom of the ice.

2…

The shadows above gather into black splotches.

1!

Dean shoots through the barrier and launches into the air. Beneath him, the Luciis crash through the same opening and their combined force makes the ice crack and break into huge flows. Rikkis on the ice wobble from the motion, and Luciis crawl up and out of the water to join them on the newly-formed bergs. Dean sees it all as he arcs high above…and plummets.

"Oh shit," Dean coughs, and his injured gills shoot pain through his body. He wraps his arms around his midsection and, in the process, fumbles the stone. It drops…well, like a stone. "Oh SHIT!"

The ice is coming up fast, and damn if it doesn't look hard and cold and really, really hurty. "A nice, soft landing would be really great, Sammy," Dean asks/hopes/prays. The little fairy beats his wings inside his bubble, but a weak poof of sparkles is all that happens.

"Sam?"

"I'm trying, Dean!"

"Try harder!"

POOF! Nothing. POOF! Nothing! POOF—

"SAMMY!"

_CRASH! _

Sam's bubble breaks upon impact, as does the Impala's, and the slide away from each other on the ice. Soon they're ducking and running for their lives, as the giant feet of fighting Luciis and Rikkis threaten to squash them flat. Sam manages to jump up and fly just before a Rikki drops on top of him.

_Help him!_ Sam hears the little girl in the stone cry. _He's hurt and I can't get to him! PLEASE, brother, help!_

Sam searches for the stone and his brother, but finds the Impala first. She's on the ice and desperately scratching at the surface, her claws growing bloody from her aggression. Sam lands next to her and sees a pair of big, green eyes beneath the ice: Dean is trapped. One arm is pounding—and failing—to break through, while the other hangs limp with the rest of his body.

Sam knows it's now or never. _You have to work, _he informs his fairy magic. _For Dean. For DEAN! _He flaps his wings and focuses on the dragon. A shower of bright light bursts into the air and falls upon the creature. Seconds later, a great roar thunders across the lake. The Impala, full grown and fierce, takes wing and screeches into the sky. Then she circles and dives straight down, plunging through the ice. Seconds later she emerges with Dean in her jaws.

"YES!" Sam shouts, and an honest-to-God rainbow shoots out behind him as he flies toward shore. The Impala lands and gently lies Dean down on his back. Sam flutters onto Dean's chest as his brother coughs up water and blood.

"Dean! You all right? Speak to me!"

The barbarian coughs hard, but nods. His watery eyes behold Sam and the Impala, and Dean smiles in relief. Then the Impala chirrups Sam's attention to Dean's wrecked, bleeding gills.

"You're bleeding out!" Sam yells. "How is that all right?"

"I'll...live," Dean wheezes. He's shivering badly, so the Impala opens her dragon mouth and warms him with her breath. He relaxes and takes her offered claw, using it to pull himself up. "Where's…stone?"

Sam smacks himself—he'd forgotten all about it! Unfortunately, it doesn't take him long to find it. Geeya is standing on the ice, holding her stone. Glur is on the shore, standing with his. Their armies crowd behind their leaders, all of them daring the other to make the first move.

"Glur," Geeya says at length, giving the most subtle of nods. Glur responds in kind.

"Geeya. Trying to prevent our prophecy, eh? I can't say I'm surprised."

"Neither am I with your attempt to ruin ours."

Standing now on shaky legs, Dean rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time since they arrived in this valley. "Sure like to talk, don't they," he grumps. Then he looks to Sam. "I have a promise to keep. Think you could get those two stones over here?"

Sam flaps his wings, and the stones fly out of Glur and Geeya's grips and into Dean's waiting hands. Dean waits until every last Rikki and Lucii are looking at him before he leers at the two rulers. "This isn't about prophecies, or power, or your damn he says, she says bickering," Dean announces. "It's about setting things right. Now shut your traps and try listening for once!"

Dean presses the two stone halves together, and the Triforce glues itself into one piece and shines bright green. Then it hovers above Dean's hands, and a light projects out over the lake. Two enormous forms appear: a young teenage boy, and a tween girl, holding hands.

"I am Goro," the boy says. "This is my sister, Geetha."

"What's with the G-names around here?" Dean mutters at Sam, who shrugs.

"We are Elementals," Geetha explains. "And like you, we used to argue—needlessly—about everything. Father punished us by locking us in the stone, where we would remain until we worked together to get out."

"But we were too busy blaming each other," Goro sighs. "Centuries upon centuries went by, both of us too stubborn to admit we were wrong. Then your ancestors came upon us."

"We hoped they'd help us escape, so we jumped as a brother and sister pair approached u. Unfortunately, they both wanted the stone as a source of power for themselves, and in their quarrelling, they dropped us. We broke, and our combined power was released into this valley—and into all of YOU."

"All that were above water took on my traits," Goro explains. "I am Air, and you gained the swiftness of the wind."

Geetha nods. "All in the water took after me. I am Water, and you gained the ability to swim as if the water were a part of you."

"Are you saying that we were once the same?" Glur blasts. Geeya looks just as disgusted.

"We are NOTHING like them! They are greedy!

Glur points at her. "They are liars!"

"THEY ruined the lake!"

"No, THEY did!"

"You BOTH did!" Goro scolds, his voice rumbling through the air and crashing against the bluffs. "You were gifted with our power, and instead of using it to protect this place, your hatred poisoned it! IT is YOUR fault the plants withered and the animals died."

"The lake boundary was the physical form of your animosity," Geetha adds. "You kept each other from thriving by keeping each other apart. You did all of it, every single bad thing, to yourselves. And all my brother and I could do was watch." She smiles up at her big brother. "We understand now what father wanted us to learn: that true harmony must come from mutual respect, both sides giving equally."

"The question is, have you?" Goro looks down at Glur and Geeya in turn. "We are willing to stay and help if you are willing to work together."

"We will leave it to Dean to decide," Geetha smiles. "He is selfless and pure of heart. I know he'll make the right choice." She turns her smile to the barbarian. "Thank you for reuniting us." She blows him a big kiss, and as the wind hits Dean's body, his gills disappear and his wounds heel. The two forms disappear back into the stone, and the pyramid drops back into Dean's hands.

Glur and Geeya approach Dean, who gives them both a stern look. "Well?" he asks. "You two willing to play ball?"

"If that means work with the Luciis," Glur begins, glancing at Geeya, "then yes. I believe we're both ready for peace between our people."

One of Dean's eyebrows quirks up. "Just like that, huh?"

The Queen nods. "If the Rikkis are willing, the Luciis are, too. Here," she holds out her hands, "I will take the stone and give it to Glur as a gesture of good will."

Glur chuckles, "I believe we have caused more grief over the years. Allow me to give the stone to YOU."

"Nonsense—WE are more at fault! I should hand the stone to you. It's the very least I can do to begin the peace process."

"But my people would respond better if I take the initiative!"

"And mine would—"

"Ugh, shut up," Dean groans. "You haven't learned a damn thing! You won't learn to work together until you're completely on your own." He puts a big hand on opposite sides of the Triforce. "And that means no favors, no bribes, no threats, no fights, and especially no backsies." Dean crushes the stone like it's made of Papier-mâché. Glur and Geeya scream and drop to the ground, picking through the pebbles. Above, Goro and Geetha reappear.

"You deserve freedom," Dean smiles, "because you've learned your lesson. These guys have a LONG way to go. All I ask is that you restore the lake. Let these tribes have a fresh start—on their own."

"Thank you, Dean!" both brother and sister spirits call. As they vanish, the ice boundary melts and the lake turns a beautiful crystal blue, its waters so clear that the Lucii city can be seen from the shore. Dean grins at Sam.

"I could get used to this judging stuff. Though I hope the next time involves a wet t-shirt contest."

The Impala growls, and Dean and Sam look over. Rikkis and Luciis are advancing on them, spears and whips out and ready.

"I don't think they like your decision, Dean," Sam mutters, already flying backward. A spear shoots past Dean's ear, and Dean grabs Sam and runs to the dragon. She flips him onto her neck and takes off as the Rikkis and Luciis do their best to bring her down.

"At least they're working together!" Dean tries, but even he isn't comforted by the fact. The Impala banks to the right, leathery black wings stretching twenty feet on either side of her, and Dean clings to his baby's chrome horns. "Wait. We're flying!"

"Yeah, the Impala likes her wings, so I told her she could keep them."

"How come I didn't get a vote?"

"Fine, we'll vote again! All in favor of flying?" Sam raises his hand, and the Impala lifts her right paw. "All opposed?" Dean lifts a shaking hand up for a second before it grabs the chrome horn again. Sam shrugs. "Two to one, Dean. The wings stay."

The Impala chirps with glee and does a tumble roll through the air. Dean shuts his eyes tight and hangs on. He really hates democracy sometimes.

**A/N Additional:** That was a long one! 26 pages, baby! Hope you enjoyed, and if so, I hope you review, because reviews are love :) Next up: Evil Mother Goose, plus we find out what Fantasia's version of Castiel is like! It's gonna be cracktastic. Won't you join us?


	7. Rhymes of the Times

**World of Winchester-Craft** (continued)

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter One.

**A/N:** Heya! This chapter is for Realhuntress, who prompted me way back in April for some Evil Mother Goose. Hon, I have not forgotten that, but it did take me a while to do your awesome prompt justice. I combined it with johnboy91719's brilliant suggestion for what Castiel could be like in Fantasia, and fweeshpow! The weirdest, crackiest thing I've ever thought up poofed into my mind. In fact, it's so cracky that I'm going to make this chapter into a two-parter, just to make sure we get every ounce of cracky goodness out of it!

Oh and a mild warning: normally my fics are rated T, or PG-13. This chapter could maybe be an R, for some crass situations. Just putting it out there to be safe. Off we go! And for all of you who have taken the time to review, THANK YOU. I truly appreciate you letting me know that my story does not, in fact, suck. ::HUGS::

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Rhymes of the Times**

Dean has never understood why anyone would ever kiss the ground until right now, when his car-turned-dragon finally touches down after an hour of horrible swoops and loops. Dean jumps off her long neck and kisses the ground with all he's got—even slips it some tongue.

"Want me to leave you two alone for a while?" Sam teases from next to Dean's ear. Dean swats him away with one hand and brushes grass off his mouth with the other. Then he drops onto his back, still breathing hard from abject terror. Sam's grin falls as he lands on Dean's chest and feels that big heart pounding away. The Impala dips her head down as well, chirruping softly in concern.

"Dean, hey…" Sam soothes. "Take some deep breaths before you black out, all right?"

"Hate…flying," Dean pants.

"I know, Dean, but—"

Dean grabs him and holds the fairy right up in front of his face. "HATE IT!" Dean snarls. "And don't tell me to get over it. You can't just get over something you've had your whole life, okay?"

He releases Sam, and his eyes go to his baby. Her head is drooped low, and her pale yellow eyes are sad. "C'mere," he waves, sitting up as she leans her snout into him. "It's not your fault, babe. I've been afraid of flying since before Sammy was born."

"Really?" Sam interrupts. Dean glances at him and nods. "I didn't know that. What happened?"

"Long story for another time—or better yet, never," Dean grunts. Then he looks back at his dragon and rubs along her jaw line. "Doesn't matter if I hate it, cos I know you love it. I could feel it in here," he pats over his heart. "So you can keep the wings. Just, PLEASE, only use them when we absolutely have to, all right? That's all I'm askin'."

She covers him in silken kisses, and Dean laughs as he stands up. His toes wriggle in the grass, and he realizes he never grabbed his boots. "I got 'em," Sam informs him, and he pulls something out of his pink jacket's pocket and holds it out for Dean to see. They're his boots, only really teeny tiny—even too small for Sam to wear. "Remembered them while we were escaping, so I made them travel-sized." He flutters to the ground and sets them down. A few beats of his wings later and the mukluks are back to normal and ready for Dean's feet.

"Good, my tootsies were getting cold," he smiles as he steps into them.

"Tootsies?" Sam grins.

"Shaddup," Dean grunts. "I've been through a lot today."

"So? We both go through a lot every day."

"Did I nearly die on you this morning? No, but you nearly died on ME. Did you find out what it's like to have gills? NO, but I did, and then I almost drowned! Did YOU have to face your worst fear for a freaking hour while your brother and your sweetheart screamed for more? NO, but—"

"All right, all right, I get it. Enough with the Blame Game." Sam turns away from his brother's smug, argument-winning grin and has a look around. "So where are we, anyway?"

Dean spies wildflowers and grassy hillsides around them and replies, "I don't know, but ten bucks Laura Ingalls is gonna frolic down that hill any second." He points to the hill in front of them, and Sam smirks.

"That village at the top has more of a Brothers Grimm vibe. Maybe it'll be the Big Bad Wolf?"

"We already fought him, remember? Coma patient ghost that made all the fairytale stories come true?"

"We fought OUR Big Bad Wolf," Sam clarifies, "but not Fantasia's version."

"You and your damn logic," Dean complains, looking around at the rest of the scenery. "Oh great, there's a big spooky forest behind us, too." He looks over at his baby, who is lying down in the soft grass. "You couldn't have landed us on a nice sunny beach somewhere?"

"Dean, I think the map is flashing again." Sam points to Dean's leather pouch, where a red, blinking light is radiating through the cover flap. Dean takes Mississippi's map out and the blinking stops as he unravels it. The old map to Candyland erases and changes. Soon, small pictures of the forest, glade, and hill-top village etch into the surface. Then the dotted line forms, pointing first to the forest, and then up to the village.

"A two-fer," Dean groans. "Great. Wonder what we've got to face this time?"

A little squeal hits their ears, and something red and furry attaches itself to Dean's calf. "What the…" Dean shakes his leg, but the critter clings tight. Dean grabs it by the scruff of fur behind its neck and holds it up. Furry goat legs and a tail hang down.

"I think it's a baby satyr," Sam guesses. Dean laughs, and Sam looks up. "What?"

"Satyr, yeah, but he's not a baby." Dean turns the little guy around, and Sam finds Castiel's face looking back at him. His skin may be brick red, but it's definitely him. Sam snerks at the sight.

"Cas? What the hell?"

The satyr shows no sign of knowing either of them. "He's probably like Fobby and Rufus the Pastry Chef," Dean says. "This is Fantasia's Cas, not ours." He sets the satyr down and ruffles the dark hair between two little, red horns. "Not a virgin here, are ya, Cas?"

Castiel the Satyr jumps Dean's calf again and starts dry humping it. "Hey!" Dean peels the body off, and Cas jumps to the other leg and grinds away. Sam smirks, and first Dean frowns, but then gets an idea and smirks back. "What about Sam, Cas? Don't leave him out!"

The satyr remains on Dean but grabs the fairy and starts rubbing Sam's crotch with a chubby red finger. Both Winchesters squirm, and Sam flaps his wings and blows Cas off. Er, not like THAT. Like a gust of wind blowing him away. Yeah. Anyway, the little satyr rights himself and pouts. His big eyes are full of need. They're amber instead of blue, but just as intense as their angelic counterparts.

"Hungry," he cries in Castiel's familiar monotone—though it sounds huskier in the satyr version.

"Well we can help you out there," Dean smiles. "Hang on little guy." The satyr claps his hands as Dean gets the magic plate out of the leather pouch. "Whatcha hungry for, Cas? Sandwich? Cookies? Pizza?"

The satyr sticks out his tongue and points to his furry nether region. "I think he's hungry for sex," Sam answers. From the way Castiel's tail swishes, it's clear the fairy is right.

"Well no deal," Dean retorts. "We don't swing that way. Sorry."

"But…hungry!" Cas pleads, folding his arms over his bare red chest.

"So? Go sex up someone else—maybe another satyr?"

"All hungry," he snaps. Then he pulls a pan flute out of…somewhere in his fur…and blows a flutey tune. Soon, dozens of satyrs emerge from the bushes. All are just as small and 'hungry' as Cas.

"You're all sex-starved?" Dean asks, and they all nod. "Maybe that's why they're so shrimpy," he says to Sam, and then turns back to the little red dudes. "You guys are usually a lot bigger, right?" More nodding. Sam flutters down to them.

"Why aren't you getting any action?"

The satyrs run off and beckon them to follow. Sam and Dean are led to a sign near the front of the woods. It is nailed to a tree, and for some reason, written in verse:

_A proclamation, to keep the peace!_

_No swearing, lies, or lewdness, please_

_And to ensure this goodness throughout,_

_All forms of sex are hereby RULED OUT_

_It's icky and sticky and in no way good,_

_So no funny business—is that understood?_

_For I have been ordered to keep you in line_

_Do not disobey, and all will be fine_

"Signed, Your Mayor Elect, Emily 'Mother' Goose," Sam reads aloud. "Seriously?"

"Mother Goose has banned sex." Dean rubs his forehead. "Now I've officially heard everything."

"How long?" Sam asks the satyrs.

"Sign up two weeks," Castiel replies sadly. Dean gives them all a look of sympathy.

"So you can't do anything? Not even, you know…honk your own horn?" The satyrs shake their heads no, and Dean shakes his in turn. "That sucks. I mean, really, REALLY sucks. What's her problem, anyway? Is she the world's biggest prude or what?"

They hear a screech, and Dean and Sam look over at the Impala. But she shakes her head to indicate it wasn't her. The screech comes again, and the satyrs go into a panic. Castiel grabs Sam and then takes Dean's hand and pulls him deeper into the forest. The Impala follows, and she hides them all under her wings. They peek out as something big lands in the glade. It's a huge bird—a goose, to be precise.

"Is that her?" Dean whispers to Cas.

"No, her pet," he answers. "Keeps eye on us. Make sure no fun-fun."

"This is beyond weird," Sam remarks. "Even our kind of weird. Why would she ban sex?"

"Maybe she needs to get laid, but no one's interested in knocking her knickers?" Dean suggests. Then he frowns and looks down. "You can stop humping my knee, Cas."

The satyr grumbles and steps away. "Hungry."

"Hungry," the other satyrs nod. Dean stands up, looking mad.

"C'mon, Sammy. Let's talk some sense into this chick before Cas and company all starve to death." Dean looks at Cas. "Does she live up in the village?" Castiel nods. "Okay. You wait here. We'll be back."

The Impala gives Dean a nudge and Sam a lick as the boys run and fly off, respectively. As they move out of the woods, the giant goose squawks at them and tries to bite. The Impala jumps out at once, landing in front of the foul fowl and screeching a warning into its face. "Thanks, baby!" Dean calls. "Keep Feathers busy while we're gone." The Impala chirrups that she will. The goose tries to step around the dragon, but a warning in the form of a fiery blast puts it in its place. Dean looks back and grins as he starts up the hill.

"She's so awesome," Sam says. Dean is so surprised that he stumbles. Sam frowns. "What? She is!"

"Yeah, I KNOW. It's about time you realized it!"

"So what do you think is going on? Is Mother Goose Fantasia's version of a PC Bitch?"

Dean gives him a sly grin. "Wow, Sammy. Never took you to be anti-PC."

"I'm not against it completely," Sam argues, "I just don't like that some people always take it too far, and it makes everyone else afraid to say ANYthing, y'know?"

"Hey, don't get your wings in a twist—I'm agreeing with you here!"

"So why are you so surprised about my opinion on this issue?"

Dean gives him a look, and Sam crosses his arms and waits for an answer. "Dude, I'm not…surprised. I just…"

"What?" Sam snits. Dean gives half a chuckle, sees Sam's seriousness, and shrugs.

"You're always correcting me, y'know? Like that time I mentioned Siamese Twins—"

"CONJOINED Twins."

"See? Just like that!" Dean exclaims, holding his hands in gesture to Sam. "I just figured you'd be very pro-PC anything. And the fact that you aren't…" Sam raises both eyebrows, and Dean smiles. "I'm proud of you, okay?"

Sam gives a little smile now. "You are? Really?"

"Yeah. Really." Now it's Dean's turn to look a little pissy. "Why, is that stupid to you?"

"What? No!"

"Uh-huh."

"Dean…"

"Drop it, Sparkles. We're here."

They arrive at the top and behold a sign that welcomes them to Hickory Dickory Hill. The village itself looks straight out of a storybook: little homes with red, pointy roofs, cobbled streets, flowers, fountains, meandering alleyways that are safe instead of scary and hiding muggers…it's all-around charming. The only thing that threatens to ruin the view is the sight of nailed proclamations on nearly every wall of every building. They see the one from the woods that Cas showed them, but find several others as well. They step up to the long one nailed to the bakery and read on:

_Sex and lies are vices true_

_And mustn't be sought out_

_You're better off abstaining—_

_Of this there is no doubt!_

_Our town is clean, our hearts are pure,_

_All inner demons purged_

_Since coming here, I've brought you peace—_

_Good will and order merged_

_And so to keep our village safe  
I pray you, stay the course!_

_For lawbreakers will pay the price_

_Through torture and brute force_

Dean whistles and shakes his head. "What crawled up her Puritanical ass?"

"Puritans still had sex for procreation," Sam points out. "What's going on here is just…stupid."

"Guess we should at least hear her out. Any ideas where she might be?" They look around, but all the buildings seem the same. Then Dean spots a door with a sign overhead that bears a beer mug. "Let's ask in there. We could use a drink anyway."

They duck inside and find a huge tavern. A huge, empty tavern, that is, devoid of life save for the bartender, who is reading a book. Dean sits down at the bar, and Sam perches on his shoulder. "Two beers," Dean orders.

The bartender looks up from his pages. "Two what?"

"Beers."

"We don't serve beer anymore."

Sam and Dean look at each other. "Okay," Dean says, "What DO you serve?"

"Water or goat's milk."

"You're kidding," Sam gapes.

"Nope. No alcohol, no caffeine, no crunkels."

Neither Winchester knows what crunkels are, but they get the gist. "Lemme guess," Dean says as he leans over the bar, "More Mother Goose rules?"

"Of course," a woman answers as she joins the bartender. She's wearing a blouse buttoned all the way up and a long, plain blue skirt. "Our Lady Mayor knows what's best."

Dean gives them his 'seriously?' eyebrows, but Sam keeps his sympathy on his face and says, "We're strangers here. Would you mind explaining to us why your village has so many rules?"

The man shrugs. "We were wicked. Now we're good."

"Since Mother Goose was elected, our streets have been peaceful."

"Uh-huh," Dean mutters. "And how's business been?"

"Lousy," the woman snaps—and quickly slaps a hand over her mouth, suddenly appearing terrified. The door pushes open, and two 12-year-old kids come in. They're dressed like the sternest cops on Earth: all black, solarized sunglasses, no smiles.

"Everything happy and well, Judy?" the girl asks in a monotone.

"Yes!" Judy swears. "Very happy, quite well, thank you!"

The bartender grabs a glass. "May we offer you a cold glass of goat's milk, officers?"

"We are fine, Punch," the girl replies, still all business and monotone-y. They pause to look at the strangers before making their exit. Then the two behind the bar breathe in relief.

"Watch your mouth," Punch snaps in a whisper.

"YOU shut up! It's your fault they check in on us all the time!"

"Only because you just bitch and bitch and BITCH instead of helping me!"

She kicks him in the shin and grabs a glass, drying it like she's trying to rub it out of existence.

"Punch and Judy," Dean says at length, sharing a look of 'oookay' with his brother. "So who were those two?"

"Jack and Jill," Punch mutters. "Head of law and order around here."

"Emphasis on order," Judy grumbles, grabbing another glass.

"You mean the kids with the hill and the pail?" Sam asks, and Judy nods.

"They don't fetch water anymore, if that's what you're after. Not since Jack broke his crown and got…" she shivers, "serious."

"Now he an' his sister make sure no one breaks anything, especially the law," Punch finishes.

"But why?"

"We've answered enough of your questions," Judy barks. "Now please leave before you get the both of us locked up."

The brothers take their leave. The moment they step outside, they're greeted by a 30-something woman in a frilly purple dress, red sausage curls, and old granny boots.

"We DO have visitors, how wonderful!" the woman trills, and she holds her hand out with her fingers dipped down. "I'm Emily Goose, though most people call me "Mother" or "your Mayorship."

Sam flutters down and kisses the back of her hand. "I'm Sam, and this is my brother—"

"Turfner!" Dean gasps. Sam looks back and finds his brother's eyes full of surprise…and lust. He's staring at Mother Goose like she's sex personified.

"Is there something wrong with your brother?" Emily asks, eyeing the barbarian with a fair amount of revulsion.

"No, he's fine!" Sam elbows Dean in the shoulder as hard as he's able. "Right, Dean?"

"Turrrfnerrr," Dean purrs in reply, giving the woman the ol' elevator eyes, and a sly grin appears on his face. He steps forward and looms over her, eight-plus feet of obvious want. Emily looks down, makes a face, and jumps back, revolted.

"Fiend!" she shrieks, pointing a shaking finger at the sizeable tent in Dean's furry underoos. "Arrest him this instant!"

Sam flies down in front of the furry…pointy…yeah, in a feeble attempt to block it from view (which is stupid, since it's far bigger than he is, but he tries anyway, the doof). "Your Mayorship, please…Dean doesn't mean any harm. He just can't control himself sometimes!"

"Oh I've got control," Dean utters in his sexiest, lowest voice, still focused on Emily. "I've been waiting for you for 16 years. I was only a kid then, but now?" He pulls out the lady-killer grin and holds his arms out wide. "I am all grown-up." Dean moves up in front of the woman, trapping the poor fairy between her tight corset and his still furry-pointy-yeah. "Want to find out just how much I've grown?" Dean asks, making both Emily and Sam feel sick.

"Right, that's enough," Jill announces, and she pulls Emily away from the offending barbarian. "Jack? Neutralize him."

The silent 12-year-old boy turns to Dean, and Dean sniffs, "What're you gonna do, kid? Hit me with your pail?" Jack replies with a creepy smile, and his eyes glow blue. An invisible force sends Dean high into the air, his big body turning over and over as he rises up over the village. Then the same invisible force changes directions, and in a second, Dean is thrown into the cobbled streets in a huge SMASH, creating a crater right in the middle of the town square. Then it happens again. And a third time. But as Jack brings Dean up for another go, he's met with a fairy's fist, right in his nose. It takes them both by surprise—Sam at how powerful his small fist still is, and Jack at being struck. It sends the boy sprawling, and Dean lands on a cart of hay.

"Dean!" Sam flies over to the stricken barbarian, but Dean is out cold and badly bruised. Jack approaches, and Sam hovers in front of Dean, positively cracking with angry energy. "Try anything, and you'll regret it," Sam warns.

"Funny, Jack was just thinking the same thing," Jill provides, standing next to her brother as he gives Sam a creepy smile.

"CHIIIIRRRAAWAWWWW!" The Impala lands while her battle-cry is still ringing through everyone's ears, and she lands between the twins, glaring at both of them in turn. Emily shrieks, backing away from the huge dragon until her back hits the fountain's wall and she stumbles. The Impala's arrival attracted a crowd, and shy citizens are now coming out of the woodwork and circling the scene. Emily regains her composure and glares pure hatred at the dragon.

"What is that godforsaken BEAST doing in my town?"

"Who you callin' godforsaken beast, honey?" Dean drawls as he sits up. Sam looks over his shoulder to check on him, and Dean nods that he's fine, even though he holds a big hand to his aching head. He stands up and walks over to his girl. "My baby is beautiful. Sleek. Powerful. A true lady." The Impala dips her head down and purrs into Dean's chest, and he rubs her snout. "And godforsaken? More like God-SENT."

"She is evil and I want her gone this instant! JACK!"

The boy's eyes glow blue, but as he focuses on the growling dragon, his view is suddenly concealed by a wall of red: a small satyr has appeared out of nowhere and is suction-cupped to Jack's face—and is kissing him. Roughly.

"Cas!" Dean laughs, highly amused at the satyr's antics, especially when he slips his ridiculously long tongue into Jack's ear. Dean moves over to Sam, who is also watching on, though he seems a bit more bemused than his brother.

"So they fight with sex too?" Sam wonders aloud.

"Must be all they know," Dean grins. "Jack better hope Cas stops with the make-out session."

Suddenly poor Castiel goes flying, courtesy of Jack's telekinesis, and his little furry butt smacks into the cobbled street, right next to where Emily is still cowering. He rolls over and looks up. She stares back, frozen in a cringe. His big amber eyes get really big and deep and cute. She un-cringes ever so slightly. He waves. She lifts her hand and waggles a fingertip. He smiles. She gives a weak one back. He makes kissy lips. She screams and runs across the street, and Castiel, dejected, plods back over to Dean and gives his boot a single, halfhearted grind.

"ENOUGH!" Emily hollers. "You are all hereby banished for life! WINKYYYYY! GET OUT HERE!"

"Winky?" Castiel repeats, sounding hopeful as his tail swishes rapidly. The townspeople have the opposite reaction: many have disappeared back into their homes and shops, leaving only a handful in the square, each of them rubber-necking at the curved street beyond the dragon. Jack and Jill are both smiling. Sam flutters over to the closest villager.

"What's a winky?" he asks—and ignores the snort he hears from Dean behind him.

"Wee Willie Winky," the villager replies—and also ignores the louder snort the barbarian lets loose. "He's the town's night guard. Makes sure everyone's in their beds after curfew."

"And if they're not?" Sam asks. The villager shivers and gives Sam a look of foreboding.

"You get relocated."

_THUD_

All in the square shake with the tremor, and they turn around to face the unseen threat. "I'm guessing Winky isn't all that wee," Dean comments, readying his sword.

_THUD_

"And I'm guessing the relocation isn't exactly a peaceful process," Sam adds, readying his…well, he has nothing to ready, really, so he gives his wings a few hard flaps just so he can do SOMEthing to prepare. They see a dark shadow creeping over the street, and they all look up. And up.

_THUD-THUD THUD. _A 20-foot brute of a man stands before them, dressed almost comically in a policeman's uniform that's about three sizes too small. The top is snug around his middle and resting above his bulging gut. The pants only reach to the fatty knees. The boots are ripped open at the toes, and long, yellowed toe nails scratch at the stone street. The only thing that doesn't look out of place is the huge night stick he wields. The brute looks at the dragon, the barbarian, the fairy, and the satyr in turn, and he grins. Two rotting teeth, one on top, one on the bottom, stick out and nearly stab into his cracked lips.

"Troublemakers, eh, m'lady?" he says in a thick Scottish brogue. "What would ye have me do wiv 'um?"

"Get them out of my sight and out of our town." Emily wipes her hands down her purple dress, still looking a bit rattled. "Now if you'll please excuse me, I have to perform three consecutive cleansing rites to feel like myself again after being around those two…things." She gives Dean and Castiel the stink eye before she turns and click-clacks away, heading for a big house at the end of the street. Jack and Jill follow her, leaving Winky alone to take care of things. He clomps forward, and the two remaining townspeople, a man and a woman, cower behind Dean.

"So, little man!" Winky taunts. "Will ye go willingly, or do ye need a bit of persuadin' now?"

"How about neither, and you fuck off right now?" Dean sasses back.

Winky laughs. "A right fire cracker you are! I'll have fun shuttin' yer mouth for good." He raises his huge fist, and in a flash, Dean has his sword embedded deep in the brute's foot. Winky lets out a roar and tries to grab Dean, but Dean dodges him and grabs the huge man by his belt, lifts him off the ground with ease, and hurls him at the thick stone wall that encircles the town. He grins with satisfaction as he dusts his hands clean, but the townspeople still look afraid.

"You shouldn't have done that," the woman whimpers.

"What? Why?"

"Because that's the theng abou' brutes…" Winky lands with a BANG, seeming to have dropped from the sky. "The more hits we take, the stronger we get!" And with that, he backhands Dean through the same city wall.

He doesn't get back up.

The Impala growls at the brute, and Winky laughs at her. "What're you gonna do, darlin'? Breathe fire on me? My skin's too thick—you won't leave a mark on me." The dragon keeps growling, though she does shut her mouth. Winky nods. "All right then! Who wants t'go first?" Everyone shrinks back against the dragon's side. "Ach, no volunteers?" Winky asks. "No matter. I can handle group oustings just fine." His big hands reach forward.

"NO!" Sam shouts, and he feels magic burst forth from every part of his being.

All falls quiet. Sam opens one eye…then the other. Winky is gone. So is the entire town. He feels a tap on his shoulder and whirls around to find Castiel there, too. The Impala is behind him, looking just as bewildered, and the two townspeople are clinging to each other.

"I must've brought us all back here," Sam realizes. Then his face falls. "Oh shit, DEAN!" Sam flies up high and looks around for his brother. He finds him on the far side of the dragon, thankfully beginning to stir. Sam breathes in relief and flutters toward him, just as the Impala notices Dean and leans in.

"Unnngh…" Groggy and sore, Dean puts a hand to his aching face and feels for missing teeth. To his relief, they're all still there.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Sam quips as he flies into view.

Dean groans at the joke. "Whatever, Rapunzel." Sitting up, Dean finds himself surrounded by soft scales and worried purrs. He smiles and pets his baby. "I'm fine, sweetheart," he assures her. She kisses his forehead—or at least, Dean thinks she does, until he remembers that dragons don't have lips. He looks up just as Cas starts kissing his freckles. "I'm FINE, Cas," he grunts, brushing the little satyr off. Castiel stays put, though he can't help but slide his hand through Dean's hair one last time. The dragon leans her head down, and Dean holds onto her as he slowly gets to his feet, and he takes in his surroundings. "How did we get back here?"

"I teleported us," Sam answers. Dean gives him a look of surprise. "I think."

Dean's surprise becomes joy. "That is so COOL!" He gives Sam as gentle a pat on the shoulder as he can manage, and the fairy still coughs from the huge hand pounding away at his back. Dean stops his 'assault' and brings his hand back to his pulsing migraine. He suddenly looks a little lost. "So, um…what happened before that?"

"Don't you remember? Wee Willy Winky? The fight?"

"Ohhh yeah, that asswipe." Dean cracks his knuckles, but the lost look swiftly returns, and his green eyes look up at his brother. "Why'd he attack us again? What did we do?"

"WE didn't do anything," Sam snits. "But YOU got turned on by Mother Goose of all people, and she freaked out when you tried to make a move on her!"

Dean gives a little smile. "Oh yeah…Turfner. Now I remember." His eyes go dreamy. "She still looks…SO _good_!"

"Who the hell is Turfner?" Sam yells, his little temper flaring with his nostrils.

"Ms. Turfner was my eighth-grade math teacher. First time I ever used "mizz," and first time I ever paid attention in math." The dreamy eyes fill with desire. "The thing that woman could do with circles…" Sam's eyebrows reach for the sky, and Dean smirks, "Let's just say she made my radius into a diameter."

Sam rolls his eyes. "And what's she got to do with Mother Goose?"

"She looks EXACTLY like Ms. Turfner. Well, not the granny boots or the froofy dress…Ms. Turfner always wore mini-skirts and see-through blouses…" Dean licks his lips and looks up at his fluttering, unamused brother. "She was a goddess, Sammy. A goddamn goddess, and I wanted her…SO bad. Even got detention on purpose one Friday just so we'd be alone."

Dean looks off into space, so Sam has to fly in front of him to get his attention back. "And? What happened?"

"She turned me down…told me I was sweet, but too young." Dean looks disappointed, but he takes in a deep breath and cheers up again as he adds, "She kissed my forehead and let me go home early. I never saw her again: Dad finished up his hunt and we moved two days later."

Sam rubs his forehead. "So you're saying that we got banished from the town because you're…hot for teacher?"

"I got it bad, sooooo bad," Dean sings and grins. "And I get a second chance. How fucking awesome is that?"

"Yeah, Dean," Sam deadpans. "Awesome. That's the word for it."

Dean ignores the sarcasm and looks at the two townsfolk. "So who are they?"

"I'm Simon," the man says, shaking Dean's offered hand, "and this is Muffy." Muffy doesn't shake hands—she's too busy giggling at all the attention she's getting from three little satyrs. One is even giving her under-the-skirt attention. Dean stares for a moment before Sam "ah-HEM!"s his attention away, and Dean looks back at Simon, only to find Simon watching Muffy as well and looking…wistful. He realizes he's being watched and clears his throat.

"Sorry, it's just been a really…" he fiddles his thumbs and licks his lips, "_really _long time."

"Same thing we hear from Cas and his friends," Dean tells him. The remaining satyrs have emerged from the woods, and they're all crowding around Muffy, like they're waiting their turns. Dean smirks when Muffy starts making happy, high-pitched noises, and Sam has to pull him by his ear to get him to turn away.

"OW! Okay, sheesh!" Dean swats his brother away and puts his back to the interesting action behind him. "So what the hell does Turf—er, Mother Goose have against sex anyway?"

"None of us really know," Simon admits. He gestures for them to sit down, and Sam lands on Dean's shoulder as his brother sets himself down by a tree and leans back against the bark. "A few years ago, our town was very different. There was money everywhere, and liquor, and orgies…" Dean sits forward at the word, and all the satyrs pause and look over at them. Castiel even emerges from his hiding place just behind Dean's tree and looks at Simon with those big amber eyes of his. Simon takes note and grins. "These little guys weren't so little then, and MAN do they know how to have fun. They started most of the orgies, in fact." Simon thumps his fist on the ground. "GOD, the ORGIES!" He and Dean both look to the skies as their respective memories and imagination take over. Sam rolls his eyes at both of them.

"THEN what happened?" he asks loudly. Simon blinks back to the here and now and heaves a sigh.

"Well, I guess you could say we got a little too fast and loose with our money and sex. The crime rate skyrocketed. The orgies stopped because everyone was too afraid to leave their homes. We needed help." He sighs again. "Instead, we got Mother Goose."

"She'd been away for years," Muffy continues as she joins them, face flushed from the apparent fun she just had. "We were in school together growing up, and she was always Miss Perfect, y'know? Never did anything wrong. Teacher's pet. It was so annoying. So when she was sent away to finishing school, we were all pretty relieved that we wouldn't have to put up with her anymore."

"And then she came back," Sam says, and Muffy groans.

"And she was worse than ever. Well, none of us knew that at first. That wasn't until after the campaign, and after she was elected Mayor."

Simon nods. "She promised to clean up the town, and with everyone still so scared of all the crime, she got voted in easily. And at first, things were great, y'know? She hired a new police force and they got rid of all the criminals in a matter of weeks. We all signed a new town charter, and she promised that she'd never let things get out of hand again."

"And then she went Napoleon on your asses," Dean says. Sam gives him a look, and Dean frowns. "What? I know some history!"

Simon and Muffy look confused, but eventually Muffy says, "Well, if by 'napoleon' you mean she went mad with power, then, yes. She made rules and regulations for everything, from what people could wear to what they could say or sell or do. People started getting arrested for the most minor offenses. I got thrown in jail one day simply because I baked Better Than Sex cake. Now I have to eat curds and whey for every meal."

"Wait," Sam says, eyeing her close. "You're…Little Miss Muffet?"

"I am now, thanks to Emily. She wrote a rhyme about me, decreeing my punishment. Have you ever tried curds and whey? It's disgusting! And I hate sitting on tuffets. And don't get me started on the stupid spider." She drops her face into her hands.

Sam glances at Dean, who looks just as baffled by this news, before he turns to the man. "Simon…like Simple Simon?"

Simon nods. "Actually my name is Simon Simple. The mayor's the one who decided it should be the other way. And one day, when I couldn't pay for my food, she threw me in jail and wrote a rhyme about it, just like with Muffy." He shakes his head. "The only reason I couldn't afford the pie was because there was a hole in my pocket and all my money fell out! Now everyone thinks that I'm some stupid cheapskate thanks to her stupid rhyme."

Dean's eyebrows are so high that they're hurting him, but he can't bring them down. Not with this latest batch of crazy. "So you're saying that Mother Goose nursery rhymes are actually…police records?" Muffy and Simon both nod. Dean still can't believe it. "So Jack be nimble…?"

"Poor kid is always so hyper," Simon tells them, "running and jumping all over the place. Now if he gets caught doing either, he has to jump over a big candle that's almost as tall as he is. Burns his butt every time."

"And Little Bo Peep?"

"Emily decided she had too many pets, so she took away her sheep and cut off all their tails as a warning."

Now Dean shakes his head. "What a bitch!"

"So what led her to ban sex?" Sam asks. "And how do the satyrs fit in to all this?"

"It was a snowball effect," Simon begins. "First she set up a ridiculously early curfew. Then she shut down crowd gatherings, like our annual harvest celebration."

"Pretty much anything that was fun in any way was taken away," Muffy sighs. "No more games, no more dances, no more contests. Then she took away beer and slug, plus anything sweet, so no candy, no cakes, no pies, no nothing."

"And last but definitely not least, she banned sex," Simon announces. "That was the last straw for most people, and they tried to leave town, but the police kept everyone in. The satyrs were among us and were trapped just like the rest of us, and as they starved, they got desperate."

"Hungry," Castiel says sadly, and all look down at him. His big eyes look up at Dean's. "Didn't want hurt them…just so hungry!"

Muffy pats his hair. "The mayor didn't like seeing people get jumped in the streets, so she banished them to these woods. Now they're starving, we're all so stressed out that we're ready to break, and Mother Goose makes up new rules daily."

"We don't know what to do," Simon sighs. Muffy sighs too, followed by every single satyr. Then Dean chuckles and they all look at him in confusion.

"You're kidding, right?" Dean looks from Simon to Muffy, but neither one understands what he means. "The solution is so obvious…you…really? You don't see it?" His eyes go to Castiel. "Not even you?"

"See WHAT, Dean?" Sam asks.

"That the whole town needs to get laid—BIG time. Especially Mother Goose."

Cas jumps up and runs off with a squeal, the other satyrs titter with excitement, Simon and Muffy seem intrigued, but Sam looks at Dean like his brother has two heads. "How is sex going to fix anything?" Sam asks.

"Sex is the BEST stress-reliever there is, Sammy! How do you not know that?" Dean waits for him to answer, but when Sam opens his mouth, Dean talks first. "Look, no one is as uptight as this bitch is—NO one. It's unreal. My guess is that it's a front. Something happened to her at some point to make her like that. Maybe she had strict parents. Maybe her finishing school did too much finishing, I don't know! But every single thing she's outlawed has something to do with making yourself happy. So maybe if she learns how to be happy, she'll lift the rules!"

"And you think sex is the best way to bring her happiness?" Sam asks. Dean gets that special grin on his face, and Sam adds, "Ohhh, sex with YOU will teach her happiness."

Dean wriggles his eyebrows. "I like happy endings, what can I say?"

"Okay, so then what?" Simon asks, "Back to the orgies and the gambling?"

"Not exactly." Dean claps his hand on Simon's shoulder when the man's face falls. "You don't want your town to get out of control again, right? But you also don't want the strict rules that Mother Goose has right now. So you need a compromise. You need to show her that you can control yourselves—maybe then she'll loosen up those rules."

"But how can we get the town sexed up again without breaking all the rules?" Muffy argues.

Dean turns to the satyrs. "That's where these guys come in. Satyrs are basically sex on legs, right? If we can teach them how to control themselves, we can show Mother Goose that they're not dangerous at all. Then people will be free to have sex, either with them or with each other." Everyone mulls it over, save for Sam, who still looks like this is the most ridiculous plan he's ever heard.

"This is the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard," he says a second after I typed out what he looked like. "Satyrs are lusty, wild animals by NATURE! You just expect us to teach them how to ask first? Just like that?"

Dean shrugs. "Yeah, why not?"

"And you just assume that Mother Goose will want to have sex with you?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer," Dean sniffs, turning away. Sam flies after him and hovers in front of his face.

"What about Jack and Jill and Winky? What are we supposed to do if they attack us?"

"You could teleport them far, far away or something." Dean looks around. "Anyone see where Cas went? And hey, whatever happened to that giant goose from earlier?"

"Deaaaan!"

The barbarian whirls on the fairy. "What, Sam? You got a better plan? Let's hear it." He crosses his arms and waits.

"Well…" Sam begins, letting the 'l' trail out into a pause. Dean lifts an eyebrow, and Sam throws him the bitchface. "It's just…" He puts his hands out to either side to make a point…but the point never comes. Dean's other eyebrow rises up, and he taps his boot. Sam finally gives in, frowning as he crosses his own little arms. "Fine. But for the record? This is insane."

Dean snorts. "What isn't in our lives?" Sam smirks and nods. Dean turns away and gives out a sharp whistle. "Okay, listen up! Training begins first thing tomorrow, so everyone, get some sleep, cos it's gonna be a long day." The satyrs run off into the woods, and Sam poofs up some sleeping bags for everyone else. Dean frowns when he notices that Castiel is still missing.

"Cas? Where'd you go?"

"I am here, Dean." The familiar voice is behind him, and when Dean turns, he finds a nearly normal-sized Cas looking up at him. Unfortunately, Dean notices that Not-So-Little Cas is also looking—well, pointing—up at him. Dean immediately turns his eyes to the evening sky.

"Cas, you're, uh…looking…full. I mean…healthy…er."

"I am nourished again, thank you. I look forward to tomorrow's lessons." The human-sized satyr trots off into the woods, happy and…bouncy…and Dean scratches his head and looks to Sam, who is also looking at the sky.

"He's gone, Sam."

Sam looks back carefully, just in case Dean is lying to embarrass his little brother, and nods when he finds the coast clear. "Thanks."

They hear the satyrs cheer in approval from within the woods, and Dean smiles. "So Cas got some. Good for him. But who did the deed? Did any of the other satyrs look bigger to you?"

"No, they were all still shrimpy."

"Weird." Dean whistles again, this time for his dragon. "Come on, baby. Quick supper, then it's bed time."

The dragon saunters over, her yellow eyes glowing and happy. A little TOO happy, actually. She gives both of her boys a nudge and then settles down, purring low and long. Sam looks at Dean. Dean looks at his happy dragon. The pieces fall into place, and the ground trembles with the barbarian's outrage.

"**CAS!"**

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**A/N Additional: **Teehee! Yes, I am a dork—what of it? So what do you think? Will the crazy plan work? Will Castiel survive the wrath of Dean after violating his baby? Will Dean finally get to bang his teenage crush? Will Sam ever get over the headache he's sure to get from all of this insanity? Tune in next time to find out! And please drop me a review, if you have time :) Thanks for reading!


	8. Apologies!

**World of Winchester-Craft **(to be continued)

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One.

**A/N: **I'm so sorry to get your hopes up for a new chapter, only to have you come here and read my apologies about NOT having a new chapter :( Unfortunately, I have to put this story on hiatus for a little while. I've got the opportunity of a lifetime to get my novel published, and I have a deadline mid-summer to get the final draft out, so between that and work and other fics I'm working on, I simply HAVE to put one story off for a while. Since I'm further along in "Measure of a Man," I decided that this story will be the one on hiatus. But I absolutely PROMISE I will get back to it this summer! I have so many prompts to fill yet—there will easily be at least ten more chapters based on those alone, plus who knows how many after that. Essentially, this story can just keep going till you're all sick of it or run out of ideas ;)

Again, I'm truly sorry I have to put this story on hold for a while. A bajillion thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed so far—your kind words lift my spirit more than you can imagine! And to pay you back for being so freaking awesome, here is a list of prompts and upcoming stuff to look forward to:

* The thrilling conclusion to the Mother Goose vs. starving satyrs adventure! Will barbarian!Dean clobber satyr!Cas' for daring to sleep with Impala!dragon? Will satyr!Cas enjoy it? LOL, you'll have to wait and find out :-D

* A trip to a very strange amusement park/carnival-type place, where fairy!Sam gets a break from being a fairy and Dean gets to enjoy being warm and fuzzy…and short. And adorable. And no, he will not be amused.

* Impala!dragon getting kidnapped! Dragon-napped? Whatevs. But one of the brothers may have to go through some changes to get her back…

* Sam being treated to some quality fairy time, enjoying the good life while Dean waits. And waits. And waits. And waits and waits and waits. Will Sam want to go back reality, much less his brother, once he's enjoyed all fairydom has to offer?

* A meeting with at least three more Fobbys, the REAL Bobby eventually, and before that, Amazon!Ellen. Hell to the yeah!

* Dean getting a true test of his barbarian mettle thanks to his biggest fans, who may just love him to death. Literally.

* Fantasia's version of Ruby, who is just as bad as regular Ruby. Will Sam get duped by her again? Well DOI, course he will. But this time, the price will be a lot more personal than Lucifer being released.

And much, much more! I should be back to posting about July-ish. See you all then—I hope! And as always, please feel free to PM me with more prompts or things you'd like to see. I'll keep writing as long as you want to keep reading :) Take care!


	9. HIATUS!

**A/N:** Sorry, no new chapter :( I'm posting this as a response to a very insulting "review" I received this morning that basically told me I should go straight to hell for not updating this story. To the person who wrote that: I'm truly sorry you're so disappointed. I would love to continue this story, and hopefully will someday, but for a long time now I've had zero inspiration for it. None. The reason I keep the story up is so people can at least read what I have gotten done—I figure something is better than nothing. But for you to say that I'm lazy and imply that I'm somehow not working on this just to spite you and other readers is WAY over the line and preposterous at that. It really hurt to read that, and it's not the first time you've accused me of such. The first time I kept my mouth shut. This time, not so much…

I started this story partly as an experiment, to see if I could write short chapters based on people's story requests, and party as a silly story to work on when I was having writer's block on other stories. The problem is that I hit writer's block on THIS story and have never been able to get over it. So I stopped working on it. Then I began working on fic challenges over on Live Journal and that put this story on the backburner. THEN I decided I really needed to get back to my novel (since it isn't going to write itself!), and since another fic of mine, "Measure of a Man," was further along, I decided to focus my attention on that and get it finished. And as any readers of that fic know, I had long bouts of writer's block on it and am only just going to finish it this week, barring any further computer problems. (Don't get me started.) So my point is, this story has unfortunately just been pushed further and further down on my To Do List. I still want to work on it, but I have no inspiration and no time. But hopefully, someday, I will return to it. I still have a ton of ideas, including the ending! I just have no words at the moment. Very frustrating.

So that's the way it is. I'm not making excuses, just explaining how I got to this point. I know the person who wrote this and others will be disappointed, and again, I'm sorry. But I didn't do it to hurt anyone's feelings or because I'm lazy or mean or just insensitive to my readers! And considering how crappy my life has been for a while now, especially lately, reading such a scathing letter didn't help MY mood at all. So thanks for that :-P

I'll shush now. I hope you're all well and that this post will at least help clarify a few things. I do truly appreciate everyone who stops by and reads anything I write! I just can't update this particular ficcie right now.

Take care, all of you :)


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